


Dreaming of a Shitty Apartment

by Crimson_Bebop



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: All you need is love, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, Endgame, Ian's POV, Insecurity, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Original Character(s), Plans For The Future, Please don't use vaseline as lube, Prison, Shitty can still be happy, Smut, Starting Over, Waiting, post 9x06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-08-23 05:18:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crimson_Bebop/pseuds/Crimson_Bebop
Summary: A post 9x06 fic about Ian and Mickey surviving by dreaming and hoping.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first fic. I just had these ideas and scenes swimming through my head and had to get them out. It's currently about 3 chapters, but may become more than that. I hope you enjoy!

It started one night after lights out. Ian was in a silent battle with his anxiety over how time was beginning to blur. It had been a long while already and yet somehow he still had over a year left to serve. That couldn't be right, he thought. It couldn't.

 Enough time had passed that he had settled into the routine of life behind bars, had adapted and taken on a second personality for his time outside of their cell, and yet still it had only been _months_. Time had warped. It felt different, now.

 He tried to tell himself that maybe he should lean into it. Let himself drift through these strange non-days, until one day he would only have thirty left. Maybe it was for the best. Or maybe it would make it feel even longer giving into it like that?

 Ian irritably rubbed his forehead and for the hundredth time tried to push the entire thing from his mind. This was futile, as his restless bouncing foot served to remind him of the tightness in his chest that it was trying to expel. That's when Mickey's voice drifted through the darkness.

 “Hey, ya know those apartments on McKinley? Next to the old Blockbuster?”

 Ian was so caught off guard he didn't immediately reply. He had thought Mickey had crashed out over an hour ago.

 “Yeah, what about 'em?”

 “I'm just thinking they might be doable for me.”

 What was he talking about?

 “They're the right level of shitty,” continued Mickey, “Shitty enough that rents not bad, but not so shitty that the plumbing doesn't work.”

 “Yeah,” rasped Ian. He cleared his dry throat before continuing more clearly, “Annie Wallace lives there with her babydaddy, I think.”

 Mickey scoffed. “I'm surprised she's not lying dead in a crack den.”

 “No, she cleaned up her act after highschool. I heard she's a good mom.”

 “Well, see that proves my point. Shitty and cheap, but not too shitty for a family like that. They still have a high turn over rate, right?”

 “I dunno.”

 “Guess I'll find out,” murmured Mickey.

 “Why are you talking about getting an apartment?” asked Ian finally, unable to silence his curiosity.

 “Where the hell else am I supposed to go? Back to my dad?” Mickey snorted, “I'm sure that would be a nice family reunion.”

 Ian was even more confused, now. He actually felt some hesitation before suggesting what he thought was obvious, “Wouldn't you come stay with me?”

 Silence.

 Ian's eyes wandered the stains on the ceiling for a long moment as he waited for a reply that didn't come. That's when he rolled off the side of his bunk onto the floor. Mickey was laying the same way he always slept, curled up with his back to the wall. Their eyes briefly met as Ian casually slipped in next to him. There was a hint of a scowl on Mickey's face that warned Ian of something hiding below the surface.

 “Did I miss something?” inquired Ian, “Why wouldn't you just come stay with me when you get out?”

 “I have two and a half years on you, Gallagher.”

 “Yeah, but you know you'll be out sooner than that—So long as you behave.”

 Mickey rolled his eyes, murmuring, “We'll see.”

 Ian became briefly distracted as their feet touched. He looked down between them as he slipped one foot between Mickey's ankles and began to move it up and down a bit. When his gaze returned to Mickey he found his eyes had been wandering around Ian's face.

 “ _You'll_ probably be out sooner than you think,” said Mickey, and Ian almost felt guilty for how relieved that made him feel. “So, I'll be stuck in here for like three years after your ass is gone.”

 “What's your point? You planning on shacking up with someone else in here once I'm gone?”

 “Fuck no. I'm just sayin' that, ya know, I don't know what'll be going on with you by the time I get out.”

 “Mick...”

 Ian frowned and reached out to Mickey. Already they were super close due to the narrow bunk, but he moved even closer still.

 “It's cool,” spoke Mickey casually, “I'm just not expecting you to wait for me.”

 “Because I didn't last time?”

 Mickey's brows went up and he nodded with a tight shrug. Ian's stomach clenched uncomfortably.

 “I don't blame you for thinking that way. That's on me.”

 “It's fine, Ian. We've talked about it before, you were going through a lot then.”

 “So were you,” mumbled Ian.

 “And you were trying to better yourself,” Mickey pressed on, “You were trying to have that normal ass prime time tv life. If I had the opportunities you had then, I might do the same. Who wouldn't want that calm normal shit?”

 “Really? You want that kind of life?”

 “The fuck you think I'm talking about apartments for? I've gotta have a permanent address and job for probation. You think I'm just going to high-tail it outta here when I'm released?”

 “No, but you never really walked the legal route after jail before.”

 “ _Jail_ time. County is one thing. I don't ever want to come back to this piece of shit place, again. And can't we agree that I've had enough adventure to last a lifetime?”

 Ian chuckled. “I guess I'm just surprised to hear you talk about having a normal life.”

 “I tried to have it with you, didn't I?”

 Ian's heart skipped. He was right, even if it hadn't looked entirely normal, it was. Even now he could imagine the whole bag of vitamins Mickey had _bought_ him from the pharmacy and the way he had helped Ian navigate his days in the healthiest way possible at that time. Hell, he could remember the feel of them laying down in the same bed every night together, how it was to have frequent showers together, or the way they would text each other updates throughout the day, and not to mention the total normalcy of unwinding at the end of the day on the couch with tv and dinner. They had had those very normal things before.

 “I mean, it's not like I had a legal job or some shit, but that was the most normal my life has ever been,” added Mickey with a dark laugh that followed.

 Ian cleared the last of the space between them and pressed his forehead to his. He shut his eyes but reached his fingers up to Mickey's hair. He inhaled some of Mickey's discarded breath and licked his lips.

 “Mick,” Ian spoke softly, mustering up all of his sincerity for the next words, “I promise I will wait for you this time.”

 “I said it's fine,” returned Mickey with a clearly forced gentleness, “Look, just worry about you when you get out. You've gotta figure all your shit out and who knows where life's gonna take ya this time. We'll see when I get out what's going on.”

 Ian's throat tightened listening to him, his heart beat hard and painfully in his chest. He pulled back enough to look Mickey in the eye, though he seemed to be avoiding Ian's gaze a bit.

 “Mickey, listen to me. I'm going to wait for you. _I promise_.”

 “Okay, alright,” chuckled Mickey. “Don't get so worked up about it right now.”

 Mickey really didn't believe him. He was just trying to dismiss it.

 Ian looked to Mickey's strange half smile while he felt Mickey's fingertips slide up his forearm. What was all this? The past several months they had been nothing but fiery passion. It was unavoidable that they both knew—so _obviously_ knew—that they were just meant to be. They were a perfect fit. They had both grown and changed in their time apart and came back together understanding each other better than ever. Every time they kissed, or touched, or fucked, Ian felt with every fiber of his being that they made more sense together than anything else ever could.

 Ian was so sure that this was the start to the rest of their life together. But, now he was suddenly forced to see that those certain thoughts were one-sided. Mickey was just enjoying every second he could get with him, while he could, apparently.

 A heavy weight slipped over Ian's entire body and he contemplated going back to his bunk to pretend he was asleep, to slip into the dark hole that beckoned him.

 “Hey whoa, what's with the sad eyes, Red?”

 What if the damage he had done to Mickey was irreversible? What if Mickey would always be waiting for Ian to abandon him?

 “Ian?”

 Mickey's sweet hand caressed Ian's cheek and in response he swallowed roughly, loudly.

 “I'm sorry, Mickey,” whispered Ian thickly.

 “C'mon, man, don't be like that.”

 “No, I-I know why I made the choices I did. I know that _you know_ and understand why, too. But, I still...You don't have the same faith in me as I do you.”

 “That's not true.”

 “It is,” argued Ian, louder than he'd meant. “And I have to figure out how to fix that, because I'm in it for the long haul with you.”

 Mickey smiled again, but this time it was real and so warm. He leaned in and pressed those loving lips to Ian's. It didn't take more than a second for Ian to open the kiss up to a more consuming, desperate one. Mickey responded with a matching heat that brought back the same thoughts as always; They fit perfectly together. How could their lives be anything but conjoined?

 They soon shifted until Ian was pressing Mickey into the thin mattress, pouring all of his feelings into wide silky kisses that grew hotter and hotter, faster and hungrier, until Mickey was grinding up against Ian's hardening cock.

 Ian groaned into Mickey's mouth before pulling away enough to press his tingling lips to the side of Mickey's neck, instead.

 Mickey sucked in a breath as Ian's warm tongue slid up his neck. He grasped onto Ian's red hair that was finally growing out enough to be gripped. Ian then nibbled at Mickey's earlobe while he began to grind into Mickey with a steady rhythm.

 “You're worth waiting for,” he breathed against Mickey's ear.

 Mickey swore audibly as Ian's tongue slipped into his ear. Ian leaned against the cold wall as he slipped his hand down to the lowest buttons on Mickey's jumper. With a quick tug they came apart and his hand dove inside. As soon as he had Mickey in hand his desperate feelings implored his hand to move quickly.

 Mickey moaned and sought out Ian's lips, kissing him wildly and roughly. He sucked hard on Ian's tongue, keeping it hostage in his mouth for a moment as he began to meet Ian's strokes with needy thrusting. Ian let out a soft whine, rubbing his face against Mickey's.

 “I want you in my future, so bad, Mick,” he spoke weakly, jerking his hand even faster and squeezing just a tiny bit more. “I need you. You know that, right? I need you.”

 “I need you, too,” returned Mickey breathlessly.

 Those words turned the passion within Ian into a blazing wild fire. He kissed Mickey fervently once more before pulling away and moving down to take him in his mouth instead. He swallowed him down a little too quickly and choked, but recovered quickly with determination.

 “Jesus christ, Ian,” gasped Mickey.

 Ian looked up to see Mickey gripping the blanket below him, panting endlessly. This is what he wanted. Mickey had proven time and time again that he would do anything for Ian, in spite of how many obstacles they faced. He could never thank Mickey enough for loving him when he thought he was unlovable, or difficult. For being the one to always go the extra mile for him. And now they finally, _finally_ , had a chance at a permanent future together and Ian wanted _this_. He wanted Mickey writhing in bliss until the end of their days. He groaned with pleasure around Mickey at the thought.

 It didn't take long, with the vigorous and greedy way Ian sucked and bobbed on him, for Mickey to orgasm. Ian raised his gaze to Mickey's again and locked it as he consumed every last drop from him eagerly.

 


	2. Chapter 2

It had been bad enough when Ian had laid awake at night endlessly thinking about how time stretched and warped, but now for the last week it had gotten worse. Now he was stuck on the fact that Mickey would likely be stuck in this strange reality for three more years than him. Alone.

“Alright, I can't take it anymore,” said Mickey abruptly, “Do you wanna come down here or do you want me to go up there?”

“Huh?”

Ian may have been confused, but he still gravitated down to the bottom bunk, maybe with a pathetic need to escape his torturing mind. Mickey pulled in a long breath and sat up, with his back to the wall, so Ian mirrored him.

“What's going on in that red dome of yours?” asked Mickey while he rubbed his tired eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you've been shaking the fucking bunk every night for the last week with your damn bouncy foot.”

Ian looked down to his knees with a frown.

“You feeling okay?”

“Just can't stop thinking about how fucked up it feels being in here and how long you're going to be in here without me.”

Mickey snorted in response, “You and me both, man.”

“Really?”

Mickey rolled his eyes to the sky at that.

“Why do you think lately I've been talking about apartments and jobs like some yuppie? You have to plan, Ian. You have to focus on the things _after_. Otherwise it's an endless fucking tunnel.”

Ian nodded in agreement. That made sense. “So, you've been feeling it, too?” he asked.

“'Course I have. Every motherfucker in this piece of shit feels it.”

“Yeah, guess it's pretty dumb to think I'm the only one feelin' like this. Sometimes I can't tell if I'm just too emotional, or it's my disease, or what the fuck is going on.”

“'s not dumb. You can only feel your own feelings, right? It'd be dumb to assume you know what everyone else is feeling.”

Ian smiled, slowly letting out a breath through his nose. He always knew how to rationally calm him down.

“Just start focusing on the future,” suggested Mickey, adjusting in the bunk in attempt to get more comfortable, which was impossible. Ian lifted an arm and motioned for him. Mickey turned a bit and leaned back on him. After releasing a breath of content, he continued, “Tell me what you're going to do when you get out of here?”

“I don't know,” sighed Ian, reaching his other hand out to grasp one of Mickey's. He turned his head a bit and took in nose full of Mickey's smell before planting an appreciative kiss against his soft hair. “I mean, you know I'm going to have to work a shitty job, which is going to suck after having a real one for over a year.”

“It'll make the chances of getting a shitty job better, though. I'm probably fucked when I get out.”

“But, you're still going to try, right?” asked Ian cautiously, “You're still going to try a crack at the whole shitty, normal thing?”

“Well, yeah,” returned Mickey, “Just still don't know how I'm going to survive on minimum wage or probably even less than that.”

“With me. My shitty pay and your shitty pay equals not-too-bad-pay, right?”

Mickey chuckled. “I guess so.”

“Maybe we can find some under the table work to do on weekends, or something?”

“Yeah, we could do some demolition or something. I know a guy who cleans crime scenes under the table.”

“Jesus,” laughed Ian, “If it pays well then sure. We could open a savings account together and put half of our under the table earnings in it?”

“For what?” asked Mickey, turning enough to look at Ian like he was an alien.

“Emergencies and big purchases.”

“You and your god damn bank accounts,” murmured Mickey with a shake of his head.

“It's what normal boring people do, Mick.”

“I guess.” Mickey paused for a moment then laughed, “Can you actually imagine me with a bank account?”

Ian barked a laugh and returned, “Fuck no. That's why you're going to have to show me.”

“Alright, so it's a challenge, huh?”

“Yeah, that sounds good. I double dog dare you to work a legal job and get a bank account.”

“Double dog dare,” repeated Mickey under his breath in amusement.

Ian turned his head and bit Mickey's ear playfully, garnering a backhand to the chest. They settled into a few long quiet moments filled with content. It was totally opposite of what Ian had been feeling up in his bunk. He couldn't stop smiling at the prospect of them living the life they discussed.

“Let's really do it, Mickey,” he said softly, voice full of hope.

“Hm?” grunted Mickey.

“If you're serious and want to, I honestly couldn't think of a better life. Shitty and normal.”

“You can't think of a better life than that?” returned Mickey incredulously.

“Nope. Just us against the world and shit. Sounds good to me.”

Mickey shook his head and Ian heard the smile in his voice as he spoke, “You're unbelievable.”

“C'mon, Mick, let's really do it. Let's be boring people together.”

Mickey snorted.

“I mean it! Let's get shitty jobs and live in a shitty place together with goodwill furniture and buy cheap groceries.”

Mickey was laughing now. “Maybe save up for a car?”

“Yes! That'll probably be shitty, too, but it'll be ours.”

“Maybe get a cat or dog or somethin'. Hell, maybe we'll even pay our taxes.”

Ian laughed heartily, “Of course, we're gonna pay our taxes, Mickey!”

“Whatever,” he mumbled in response.

Ian was grinning, now. He really could see it happening. All of it. But, could Mickey really be happy like that? He wondered. Especially, for the rest of his life?

“Do you think you'll get bored living like that?” asked Ian.

“Your ass is enough excitement for me. What else could I need?”

“Gee, thanks.”

Mickey laughed and sincerity filled his tone as he pressed on, “Seriously, though, it's not like I chose to live my life the way I did up 'til now. It's all I've ever known. But, if you can show me how to live it the other way, Mr. EMT, then fuck yeah I want to try it.”

Ian hugged Mickey tighter. All of the things that held them back before, that got in their way, were gone or leaving. In just a few years they would be starting over in a way they never had. After everything they had been through together and apart, Ian could hardly believe it could work out that way.

But, they were survivors. Both of them. So, the chances of them surviving together were higher than most couples, right?

Time slipped by faster than Ian realized. And when he next spoke he didn't get a response. Upon investigating he found Mickey was fast asleep. Ian smiled warmly and pressed a kiss to his head again before gently laying him down and tucking him in the best he could in the sad excuse for a bed. One day it would be a real bed and he would wrap his arms around Mickey and fall asleep with his nose in the back of his neck. That was definitely worth waiting for.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up somewhere just over a year into Ian's time served.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had originally had this written as about 4 chapters, but I've had so many ideas popping up in the last two days. So we'll just see where this takes us, eh? :)

Ian was trying to read the book in his hand, but failing miserably. What he was really doing was chewing on his thumbnail and staring at the door to the cell. Mickey had been gone for too long. They rarely left each other's sides, and if that happened it would be brief.

But, Mickey had been just the tiniest bit aloof since they had found out Ian would for sure be released early on parole. Almost a whole year early. Ian had been having paranoid thoughts that Mickey was distancing himself to prepare to lose Ian. It was ridiculous, but Ian wondered if it was a coping mechanism.

He pressed himself tighter into the corner of Mickey's bunk and glanced down at the book in his hand, again, but simply sighed and slammed it down. Just when he was about to get up and investigate he spied dark hair through the window of their door.

“What'ya doing?” questioned Mickey with a furrowed brow as he walked in to the anxious scene before him.

“Where were you?” asked Ian worriedly, “You were gone forever. Did something happen?”

“Chill out, Red,” returned Mickey as he made his way to the bunk to sit beside Ian. “I was just looking into the programs.”

“Like what?”

“I gotta keep myself occupied once you and your dick are gone. Figured I could take some classes.”

Ian's eyes widened. He repeated himself, even more curious now, “Like what?”

Mickey rolled his eyes, bashfully turning his gaze elsewhere. “Figured I'd start with my GED.”

“Seriously?”

“I doubt I'd even get hired at Bailey's pizza without one and that place is _infested_ with rats.”

“That's awesome! I'm so proud of you.”

“I haven't done anything yet,” dismissed Mickey grumpily. “And it's not like it's a PHD or some shit.”

“Stop downplaying it. It's a big deal that you're even going to try. A lot of people don't.”

“Yeah, whatever,” grumbled Mickey, scratching at the back of his head. “Hey, one of your disciples offered to help me with it, though.”

Ian groaned, “Don't call them that.”

Mickey laughed, looking him over. “Why the fuck not? There's been some perks to having those weirdos around. Shit, I've been gettin' a free ecig every month from Gabe since he got locked up. Thank the gay lord.”

“Shut the fuck up,” laughed Ian.

“In fact, I'd like to thank him personally. Think it's about time for my daily prayers, don't you?” spoke Mickey slyly with a wiggle from his brows.

Ian couldn't stop smiling, even as he shook his head. He ran a hand over his embarrassed face.

“Should I get on my knees to pray, Oh Lord?” continued Mickey with his hands pressed together in a praying motion, “Or would you rather I sit on your throne?”

Ian laughed once more, quickly giving Mickey a shove to the side. Mickey joined his laughter and raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, fine. Guess I'll just be a sinner then.”

“I'm starting to think you get off on this,” accused Ian with a curious brow raised.

Mickey had zero shame on his face as he smiled at him and shrugged. Ian caved into the tension between them and pinned Mickey down on the bed, shoving his forgotten book to the floor.

The satisfaction in Mickey's expression as he peered up at him was what actually started to turn Ian on. The familiarity of it triggered multiple layers of warm feelings. He leaned down and softly stroked his bottom lip against Mickey's. The teasing motion had Mickey attempting to capture his lips, but he pulled away from it.

“I've got a long sermon to give ya," purred Ian, "It's going to make you say hallelujah.”

Mickey laughed loudly, abruptly, turning his head to the side to cover his amused eyes with his hand. Ian laughed with him, lowering himself to kiss Mickey's reddening face. His insides had lit up watching Mickey laugh so openly. It was always the most beautiful sight.

Ian went on to kiss his neck appreciatively while Mickey said, “You're such a fuckin' dork.”

“You started it,” defended Ian, propping himself up on an elbow to hover over Mickey, “Now, can we get back to the original topic?”

“Huh?”

“What did the counselor say about the GED program? How soon do you start? Is that a thing that goes on all the time or do you do all the work and they just offer the test to—“

“Ah, christ, Ian,” sighed Mickey, “Stop asking so many damn questions. What does it matter?”

“Stop being so shy about it and tell me, asshole,” smiled Ian. He could see right through him. “Can I help you study? We can see if there's any GED books in the library.”

“Don't worry about it,” mumbled Mickey.

“Why not?”

“I already told you, it's something to keep me occupied when you leave. I don't want to waste our time together studying shit that's going to take me forever to get.”

Ian's mouth fell open with the need to say so many things, but he decided against most of it. Mickey didn't need or want to drag things out, clearly. He settled on, “So, what'ya wanna do with me, Mick?”

Mickey looked him over and Ian swore he saw gratitude in his eyes. A smirk took over his expression and Ian's heart skipped a beat.

“I'm kind of interested in the sermon you mentioned. The last one I saw you give was _explosive_.”

Laughter tumbled from both of them again and the sad reality of their inevitable separation dissipated from the room.

“Who's the fuckin' dork now?” grinned Ian.

 


	4. Chapter 4

There was less than a week left for Ian. He wanted to feel excited as he talked to Fiona on the phone about his first day out, but there were so many thoughts spinning in his head.

“I'll be there early, just in case,” she said, “And don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to shower and nap when we get home before everyone gets here for the shindig.”

Ian barely registered Fiona's words through the phone receiver as he eyed the new group of inmates coming in from processing. He did his best to assess them. They could be new threats to Mickey, or new allies, or absolutely nothing. It seemed his brain couldn't stop collecting data that would potentially haunt him after his release.

“Ian? You still there?” asked Fiona.

“Yeah, sorry, Fi. Just a little distracted.”

“You don't sound too good. You been feelin' alright?”

“Yes,” sighed Ian tiredly, trying his best not to feel defensive over those words. “Just not excited about leaving Mickey in here.”

“Ian, if anyone can take care of their self in prison, it's Mickey fuckin' Milkovich.”

“I know. It's just, you know, it's going to be a long time until he's out.”

“Not as bad as the last time he was in, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So long as he stays put this time, anyways.”

Ian snorted, “I seriously doubt he'd get away with that again. Or even try it.”

“We are talking about a Milkovich, aren't we?”

“Yeah, yeah,” returned Ian dryly, “He's studying right now, you know. Trying to get his GED.”

“You fuckin' serious?” spoke Fiona with a laugh of disbelief.

“He's going to try to be normal and boring with me when he gets out. Try not to get in trouble again, you know?”

She laughed clearly this time and replied, “That's kinda sweet.”

Ian uncontrollably smiled. “Yeah. I can't wait for it.”

 

*

 

Ian and Mickey, freshly showered, headed for dinner. They always navigated the prison close, but kept an unspoken distance. Saying nothing to each other in line, they got their trays of slop and started making their way to their usual table.

Mickey glanced at him a few times, bringing Ian to ask what was on his mind. There was a hint of a smile that Mickey kept at bay, before he quietly spoke, “Just wish I could take a shower with you without thirteen other eyes on us.”

Ian began to smile, ready to agree, but as his brain did a quick math equation he paused, looking at Mickey with confusion. “ _Thirteen_?” he repeated.

“You didn't notice the fuckin' cyclops in the showers?”

“Uhh,” hummed Ian through a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Not talkin' about genitalia, wise guy.”

“He's talking about Larry,” chimed a voice through a mouth full of food.

Ian sat next to the man, Cuervo, and Mickey tucked in close to his other side. They'd been sitting at this table for six months, now, with what you might call their friends. Except they weren't friends. They were more like teammates or a tribe on a deserted island.

“Larry Ellison got stabbed in the eye two years ago,” continued the raspy accented voice of Cuervo. “Ironically, it happened in the showers, man.”

A few chuckles erupted across the metal table, while Mickey wasted no time beginning to inhale his food.

“We'll have to make sure our shitty apartment has a decent shower,” whispered Ian.

Mickey gave him a quick hidden smile and nodded as he shoveled more food in his mouth.

“Hey, Ian, did you hear what the church of gay—“ began Gabe from across the table, though he barely got half of those words out before Mickey shot him a glare.

“Shit, what, Mickey?” questioned Gabe worriedly.

“Don't wanna hear no shit about what those whackos are doin' in the name of Ian while he's locked up in here.” Mickey stabbed at some very waxy green beans on his tray and grumbled, “I swear when I get out if I hear that those assholes were trying to pull him back into all that bullshit after what they did to him, I'mma pay some visits.”

“Seem a little upset about your boy being a celebrity, Milkovich,” teased a person named Ty from the end of the table.

“More like a martyr,” grumbled Mickey, and Ian smiled down at whatever hyper-processed meat he had on his tray.

“He's just being _protective_ of Ian, which he deserves after fighting a good fight for our community,” chimed Gabe with a hopeful expression that had Ian burying himself more and more into his tray of food.

“Fuck off, Gabe,” spat Mickey, “Stop being such a kiss ass.”

Ian shut his eyes tight for a moment before breathing, “Can we _please_ change the subject?”

The table fell quiet, apart from the sounds of them eating.

“I heard they're on the terrorist watch list, now,” chimed Ty. “After they set those buildings on fire last month. Dumbasses.”

“They were gay conversion places,” defended Gabe, “They deserved it.”

“Better ways of fightin' hateful people than that, kid. And if you're going to do it, do it without getting caught. They were practically screaming that it was them.”

“It's to send a message,” argued Gabe, his voice growing louder, “Just like Ian did. We're all following in his footsteps. Whenever I got caught I was—”

Mickey abruptly slammed a hand down on the table, silencing the argument, and garnering the attention of half the room. He pointed his finger at Gabe and threatened, “I'm gonna turn _you_ into a fuckin' cyclops if you don't stop using Ian as an excuse for doing dumb shit. Got that?”

Gabe frowned and slowly nodded, clearly biting back many unsaid words. Mickey stood, snatching up his now empty tray, and Ian looked to him worriedly.

“Gotta take a piss,” mumbled Mickey with a glance towards Ian, then he took off across the room.

Ian watched him go, noting the swagger of his walk was extra tense and heavy. He sighed as he looked to Gabe, who looked entirely wounded.

“Hey, don't pay him any mind, alright?” offered Ian, “He wouldn't actually take your eye out. He's just barking at you.”

“He's been extra crabby lately,” complained Gabe.

“Of course he has, moron,” returned Ty, nodding his head towards Ian, “He's about to lose his boy.”

“He's not going to lose me,” argued Ian.

“You know what I mean, man. Even if he talks to you every night on the phone, the days are long. Your skin gets lonely. I talk to my old lady every other night, but you think I don't feel alone and like she's not mine the rest of the hours of the day?”

Ian rubbed at the back of his neck, letting out a slow breath, and asked, “Any advice?”

“Try not to talk to him about prison too much,” suggested Cuervo.

“Yeah,” agreed Ty, “You gotta make him feel like he's part of your life on the outside. Don't be afraid to tell him all about your boring day, if you know what I mean.”

Ian nodded. That's exactly what he needed to hear, because he knew he would end up feeling guilty talking about anything on the outside to Mickey.

“Can you guys watch out for him? I'm worried about how he'll get when I leave.”

“Of course we will,” returned Cuervo enthusiastically, with a hard pat to Ian's back that almost made him choke.

“I'll keep his ass in line,” offered Ty, sitting back to cross his arms over his chest. “Boy's got a lot of fire in him, but he's reasonable.”

“And I won't ever talk about the Gay Jesus thing in front of him, again,” said Gabe, gaining an amused smile from Ian.

“Speaking of that shit,” began Ty with an extra quirk to the side of his mouth, “why's that lil bitch with the blonde hair always sniffin' around Mickey?”

“He's helping him study for his GED,” chuckled Ian.

“Well, I think he wants a daddy,” mused Ty with a snort, “Kid looks like a trembling stick. I swear he's terrified of me. He freezes up every time I look at him.”

“Maybe he's racist,” suggested Cuervo through a mouth full of bread.

“Nah, he's really just a scaredy cat,” confirmed Gabe. “Also doesn't know how to mind his own business, so he's asking for trouble. But, yeah, he totally wants Mickey.”

Ian's eyebrows shot up. “That right?”

“You saying you ain't seen the doe eyes he has for him?” laughed Ty.

“Can't really blame him,” returned Ian with a sly smile.

It wasn't long before Mickey returned, giving Ian an oddly impatient look as he sat down next to him. “You ain't done yet?”

“We were talking,” smiled Ian innocently.

Mickey rolled his eyes as he leaned on his elbows on the table, grumbling something about their _tea party_. Ian knew it was bullshit and that Mickey enjoyed the company of the guys at their table. There were even a few times that Mickey and Cuervo had gotten into enthusiastic conversations about Mexico, although Ian got the feeling that Mickey tried not to talk about it in front of him. And Ian hadn't told him that he secretly loved it. It was a part of Mickey's life that he was endlessly curious about. And it was what could have been in Ian's. Not to mention when the two fell into speaking spanish to one another he was even more entranced. Foreign languages sounded _really_ good on Mickey's tongue.

“Hey, Milkovich, settle something for us?” spoke Ty, “That blonde stick that's helpin' you out, he wants your dick, right?”

Mickey sent him a look, snorting, and answered, “Oh, for sure.”

“What?” laughed Ian, giving Mickey's shoulder a shove. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Didn't think you'd want to hear about how many times I've been propositioned in here.”

Ian raised a brow and sat back as a surge of jealousy ran through him. “ _Multiple_ people?”

“What did I say? He's daddy material,” laughed Ty, causing the others to join him.

“Fuck off with that,” returned Mickey, “I'm not try'na be anyone's fuckin' daddy.”

“Doesn't mean you're not desired,” teased Ty, drawing out the last word.

“ _You_ propositioning me, now?”

Ty laughed and raised a middle finger. “I don't fuckin' need a daddy to keep me safe.”

Mickey chuckled, but as he looked to Ian he seemed to notice his tense demeanor. Ian wasn't trying to make it obvious, but it was difficult. He had gotten wrapped up in a battle inside his mind.

“You alright, firecrotch?”

“Just tired,” murmured Ian. “Think I need to lay down.”

Mickey nodded, but Ian noticed the concern in his eyes. He offered a reassuring smile as they stood. He didn't miss the teasing, albeit accurate accusations from the other three about his concern and jealousy. He simply ignored it, tossing a goodbye over his shoulder as he made his way to deposit his empty tray over a trash bin.

Once they were back in their cell Mickey gave Ian's back a gentle stroke. “Get some sleep, man.”

“Can I lay with you?”

“Like you gotta ask,” returned Mickey with a confused scowl that made Ian smile.

Mickey laid down first and Ian tucked himself between him and the wall, just like he knew Mickey liked. He always wanted to be a shield to everything outside of the bunk. The thought had him snuggling into the corner of Mickey's pillow and looking to Mickey's profile with admiration. He owed him more than he could ever return.

“What's on your mind, Ian?” questioned Mickey without even looking at him. “You feelin' okay?”

It was strange, Ian considered, how Mickey could ask the same question with the same connotations as Fiona, yet it didn't bother him. Maybe because Mickey had never made him feel like a burden or like he was afraid of him turning into a familiar monster.

“Yeah,” answered Ian thickly.

“That really bother you down there? Dudes wanting me? Cause I know your ass has been propositioned, too. And not for the dumb daddy reason.”

Ian pulled in a long breath and spoke candidly, “I guess a little. I just got a little worried, but really I was thinking about how I should talk to you about when I'm gone.”

“What about it?” asked Mickey with a furrowed brow.

“It's going to feel like an eternity, so if you gotta do stuff with people to stay sane, I get it.”

“The fuck you talkin' about?”

Mickey was looking at him, now, but Ian couldn't reciprocate. He didn't want Mickey to see how sad the thought made him.

“I just thought we should talk about rules, or something, ya know? If you get lonely and hook up with someone, I'll understand. Just maybe only keep it to hand stuff. Maybe a blowjob here and there.”

A quiet moment passed, so Ian glanced at Mickey, finding his eyebrows raised high.

“You serious?”

Ian nodded, confused why Mickey was so surprised.

“Are you just asking for permission to fuck other guys when you get out?”

“No,” responded Ian quickly, “This is about you, not me.”

“And what gives me the immunity, but not you?”

“Because, I won't be in prison. You've gotta grab every good feeling you can in here, Mick. I'll have plenty of shit to keep me occupied and non-sexual shit to satisfy me. You're going to be limited.”

“Well, gee, thanks for the permission,” said Mickey sarcastically, irritably. “You think I want that?”

“I'm not sayin' you're going to seek it out. Just know that if it happens I'll understand.”

Mickey scoffed and rolled his eyes, looking up to the bunk above them. “Whatever, Ian.”

“We're adults, Mickey. We can be honest about this shit, right?”

He watched Mickey's throat bob as he swallowed. He could feel him closing up, shutting down. He frowned and spoke, “Mick?”

“Just hate how weak you think I am,” said Mickey quietly, “Like I'm just going to fall to pieces the day you leave. If you're really going to wait for me, then it won't be that bad, trust me.”

“Is that really enough to get you through?”

“Yeah, Ian. I've been in this tunnel before, with no end in sight. This is a fuckin' cake walk compared to last time.”

Ian let out a tense breath. “I don't think you're weak, Mickey. I just think you deserve better. You gave up what freedom you had for me, so I want to do everything I can to make it easier, I guess.”

“Well, thinkin' that you want me to just fuck off and do what I want in here is not going to make it easier.”

“Guess I didn't think of it that way,” admitted Ian quietly.

“No shit.”

“Okay, then we'll just focus on it like it's a normal long-distance relationship, right?”

“You willing to do that?”

“Of course, I am, Mick. That's what I want.”

Mickey tucked his hand under his pillow and pulled out his e-cigarette to puff on and Ian frowned. They were quiet for a while, passing the e-cig back and forth, blowing the tiny bit of vapor into the air in front of them.

Mickey kept his eyes to the top bunk, but Ian watched him the entire time. Endless appreciation flowed through him. Ian cuddled into Mickey more and more, until he shoved his e-cig back under the pillow. One of the CO's stopped at their door, looking in on them, and they both waited for the inevitable locking mechanism of their door to echo through.

Ian used to yearn for lights out, but now it meant that it was one more day gone, one less day with him. Tomorrow he would wake up knowing there were only four days left. Only four more nights of holding Mickey close, kissing his lips, touching his beautiful body.

He couldn't believe his time was almost up. This year could have been so much harder.

“Thanks for getting me through this, Mick,” said Ian softly. “I never would've made it through with a clear head, if you hadn't done what you did to be here.”

Mickey turned his head to look at him. They stared silently into each other's eyes for so long that the intimacy of it was nearly suffocating. It made Ian melt against the hard wall behind him. He started touching Mickey, stroking gently, lovingly, at his arms and chest. There was a very strange yet accurate thought that crossed his mind; how lucky he was. Even in a prison in an uncomfortable bed with four days left of zero freedom...he was so lucky.

Ian very slowly ran his fingertips around Mickey's tattooed forearm, dropping his gaze to look at it. That tattoo was a constant reminder of how Mickey had given up an established life for Ian. But, it was also a reminder that Mickey had always kept Chicago on his mind.

“You really going to wait for me?” asked Mickey in a whisper.

Ian returned his sight to Mickey's beautiful eyes, that were swimming with both doubt and hope. He dug himself deep into them and nodded sincerely.

Mickey released a shaky breath and bit down on his bottom lip, nodding his head.

“You know, when I turned around and saw you standing over there, I saw a declaration. You were saying, again, that you wanted a life with me. And you always made it sound like it was such a simple decision to make.”

“You're the only thing that ever made me happy.”

Ian smiled sadly and leaned to press a soft kiss to Mickey's temple.

“You're the only thing that made me happy, too, Mick. Like genuinely happy. I was so lost over the years without you, trying to figure out who I was and where I wanted to go. Before, when we were together, those questions always had obvious answers. You were my foundation.”

“Pretty shitty foundation,” mumbled Mickey.

“Screw you,” chuckled Ian quietly, “My Mickey-foundation is confident and strong and so absolutely sure of us.”

“Are _you_?”

“It was never a question of that.”

Mickey sent him a disbelieving look and Ian frowned.

“I had to mourn the loss of my old self, you know, when I was diagnosed. I didn't feel lovable or deserving, just felt like a giant mess that I didn't even understand. It was too much, I was overwhelmed. Then you got locked up and it hurt too much to want you, knowing I wouldn't have you for so long—when I was still in a vulnerable state and _needed_ something. And yeah that was selfish, but, I could barely handle myself. I was trying to survive.”

Ian reached for Mickey's hand, needing to hold onto him before he fell away into his emotion. Mickey intertwined their fingers in a reassuring way that had Ian releasing a breath.

“I leveled myself out, got the right medication for me, and found a steady lifestyle that helped it. I was trying to stay out of trouble, trying to avoid triggering any unhealthy manic episodes, you know? I wanted to go with you to Mexico, because I wanted to _be with you_. But, I was scared that being on the run, and starting all over with my life, would spiral my mental health and that would have been a huge burden on you.”

“Ian, you'll never be a burden,” said Mickey with nothing but sincerity, which had Ian's eyes swelling up with tears. He blinked them away and nodded, even if he couldn't completely believe it.

“I got pretty bad, Mickey,” admitted Ian, “Coming back from making that rough decision and finding out Monica died, it totally fuckin' threw me down the rabbit hole. I tried so hard to hide it, and fight it, but it just got worse...”

Shame filled Ian to the brim. He had to take a few deep breaths to push it away, focusing on Mickey's hand in his instead.

“If you had been in front of me, with no real threat of you being taken away, there would have been no question. We make too much sense together. It's like there's a giant fuckin' magnet pulling us together. But, I'm just the weaker end of it, and that's something I had to come to terms with. It's not wrong, it's just frustrating.”

“You're so complicated, Gallagher.”

Ian looked to Mickey, finding an unexpectedly sweet smile on his face.

“Wouldn't want ya any other way, though,” he added.

“Yeah right,” returned Ian with a roll of his eyes.

“I love you the way you are,” shrugged Mickey, as if the proclamation wasn't the most important thing Ian could hear in this moment.

Ian released Mickey's hand and moved it up to his jaw, holding his head in place as he leaned forward to kiss him warmly. He felt Mickey's hand in his hair as they spoke a language they had since they were teens, breathing silent truths into each other's mouths.

“None of that shit matters now,” whispered Mickey hotly against Ian's lips, “'s all behind us.”

Ian nodded and opened his mouth wider for a deep kiss that had both of them moaning in pleasure.

And soon they were undressed and connected face to face, moving slowly and indulgently. They soaked up non-stop eye contact that conveyed endless love for one another, panting nearly in sync in the space between their faces.

Ian couldn't believe how overwhelmed he felt by the love. Or how sincerely Mickey was still staring into his eyes, after what felt like an hour of this slow climb to pleasure.

When Mickey's bottom lip shuddered and he bit onto it, Ian knew this was a sign that he was close. He moved forward, pressing Mickey's knee closer to his own shoulder, and set his sweaty forehead against Mickey's. He shut his eyes, basking in the last moments of the deep pleasure, and whispered passionately against Mickey's skin, “Love you so much...”

Mickey grunted immediately and Ian felt his body stiffening below him. His stomach fluttered before his own orgasm came rushing forward. They came together, with their mouths opened against each other's, breathing in each other's air and moaning and whimpering onto each other's lips.

Collapsing against Mickey, Ian swore he was high as a kite. He felt Mickey smile against him, and grinned, as well.

“Love you too,” panted Mickey with a breathless and happy laugh that followed.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the first week apart to around six weeks.
> 
> Warning: Non-descriptive mentions of violence.

Ian was practically climbing out of his skin waiting for the first visiting day to approach.

There had been countless nights of sleeping on the bunk in his cell that he had dreamed of any and all of the beds in the Gallagher house—even just the couch. Yet, now that he had his old bed back it didn't seem to make much of a difference. When he eventually fell asleep at night it wouldn't last. And waking up multiple times a night was almost worse than not sleeping at all.

It was uncomfortably surreal in the quiet moments. Like it wasn't reality, or just that the last year hadn't been real. And he swore he was on the same medication he was while in prison, yet it seemed different. He couldn't decide if the quality was different, or if it was an illusion, or if it was just the atmosphere change. It was just the adjustment, he knew that, yet his mind couldn't stop wandering and reminding him of how not right it felt and how not right that was.

Those factors mixing with the excitement of seeing _him_ had Ian practically buzzing the morning of. He forced a donut down and drank his coffee way too quickly, not to mention the six cigarettes he smoked at the kitchen table. By the time Lip showed up announcing it was time to go he was feeling uncomfortably tense.

Thankfully, it had only taken a little bit of convincing to get Lip to agree to driving him to the prison. Even still the family kept bringing up how they couldn't believe what Mickey did.

“A fuckin' Milkovich willingly turning himself in to federal prison?” Lip had said with a laugh on his first day out, “Now I've seen it all.”

“He must've hated Mexico,” joked Carl.

“It's romantic, Idiot,” Debbie had argued, “I can't imagine someone doing that for me.”

“Whatever the case, I'm just glad he had your back, Ian,” Fiona had smiled.

At least they could all see how meaningful it was that Mickey had done that. And what it meant for their future. Debbie had been frequently talking to him about marriage, and how it was inevitable. And while he had also thought about that a lot in the last year, he knew that now he needed to stay focused on building a foundation _for Mickey_. They had both spent the last year dreaming of a simple life together and it was now up to Ian to get it started.

“What're you blocked up or something?” asked Lip, breaking the silence around when they were getting close to the prison. Ian sent him a questioning look and Lip let out a laugh, “I don't know, man, you just look constipated.”

“It's just been a bit of an adjustment the past few days,” explained Ian vaguely, “Haven't been able to accept it, I think. Like I'm not me or my reality isn't real.”

“You'll get there,” reassured Lip easily. “When do you see your lovely _court mandated_ therapist?”

“Two days,” sighed Ian, “I'm kind of excited, but also dreading it. I've been feeling too tired for something like that.”

“It'll be good for ya. When do you find out about that factory job?”

“They said Monday.”

“Going from an EMT to working in a shitty factory, that's gotta suck, man.”

“Feels great, Lip, let's talk about that more.”

Lip laughed and gave Ian a playful shove.

“Don't worry, man, you'll bounce back. You always do.”

Ian immediately became distracted by the prison coming into view. Something warm stirred inside of him and his foot began to bounce like he was a dog shaking his tail. Lip offered to stay in the car while Ian went in, which he was secretly grateful for. He wanted Mickey's undivided attention.

Signing in gave him a flicker of anxiety, as if his body thought they were going to go through processing again. His tension grew as he sat in a waiting room filled with other people that looked just as stressed.

When they called everyone in they entered a room that was uncomfortably quiet, but would soon be buzzing with chatter. He took a seat and left his jacket on, swearing that they didn't regulate the room's heat at all.

Leaning forward on the booth he kept his eyes glued to the door he knew Mickey would be coming through and tried not to count the seconds. It got harder to do when other inmates strolled in first. Mickey was at the back of the line.

None of that mattered when they made eye contact. His heart fluttered happily as Mickey smiled at him during his journey to the booth. They both scooped up the receivers without taking their eyes off one another and Ian nearly melted when he heard Mickey's voice.

“Hey, Gallagher.”

“Hi, Mick,” grinned Ian.

They sat in a quiet moment, just staring at each other with equal adoration. Ian let loose a long breath and finally spoke, “I'm happy to see you. It's felt like a month, already.”

“Know what ya mean,” returned Mickey with a quick glance around to his surroundings.

“How have you been?”

“Could be worse,” answered Mickey, “Got a new cellmate. He's alright.”

“Yeah?” Ian's tone was soaked in the relief he felt. “I'm glad. Was worried about who would get thrown in with you.”

“Think I can't play nice?” smirked Mickey with a raised brow.

“Not really,” laughed Ian.

Mickey's smile grew and he shrugged a bit.

“How bout you, Carrot Top? How've you been?”

“Weird. Trying to get used to being out and away from you. It looks like I got a shitty job. I'll find out for sure on Monday.”

“That's great, man.”

Ian wasn't excited about it. “I'll see my new therapist soon, too. Parole officer isn't a total douchebag. And I'm back at the house with half my siblings again.”

“That's probably going to make it easier, being around them.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ian with a quirk of his lips, “Geneva tried to stop by and talk. They all practically chased her away.”

Mickey grinned, “Glad to know they still got your back.”

“Me too,” returned Ian, expelling more of his tension with a breath, “So, do you have enough money in your calling account?”

“Yeah, Red, I'll call your ass tomorrow.”

Ian cheeks flushed a bit and he dipped his head in a bashful way as he said, “That's good. That makes me happy. Don't know when I'll be able to add more money to your account, though, since I'm pretty broke right now.”

“Don't worry about it, man,” dismissed Mickey, “How'd you get here, anyhow?”

“Lip drove me here. He says hi, by the way—Well, actually, the whole family says hi.”

Mickey raised his brows, looking even more surprised than Ian anticipated, and nodded his head.

“Fiona said the day you get out we're going to throw a big party.”

“Really?” returned Mickey quietly with a skeptical glance to the side.

“Yeah,” smiled Ian, “But, I told her the day you get out I want you all to myself, so maybe your second day out.”

Mickey's gaze flickered with something bright. His expression turned so warm and they were again staring silently at one another. Ian's fingers twitched with the need to reach out and touch him.

“This is going to be rough, Mick,” admitted Ian.

“Nah, the first week is the hardest. We just gotta adjust, then it'll be routine.”

Ian nodded, but he didn't quite believe it.

“Just gotta keep our eyes on the prize, man.”

“As if I could ever look away from the prize.”

 

**

 

“Hey,” exhaled Ian in relief, as he always did at the sight of him.

“Hey man,” returned Mickey as he adjusted in his seat, looking Ian over. As if he couldn't sit still.

“I'm so happy to see you. And really sorry about the last two weeks.”

“It's fine,” dismissed Mickey, his gaze veering away. “I'm sure there's a lot going on.”

This was what he was worried about, that he would think Ian had just put him on the back burner. Especially since he had missed all of Mickey's calls.

“No, it's not that. I got put on day shift. So every time you called I was either at work or sleeping. Couldn't even tell you I wouldn't make it for the visits. I work two weeks on days then three on graveyard. But, I'll be able to see you every week until I go back on days, now,” added Ian with a hopeful smile.

“Just don't stress yourself out about it.”

“I want to see you,” pleaded Ian quietly but desperately. “I _need_ to.”

Mickey nodded, his eyes softening a bit. “Well, tell me how the new job is.”

“It sucks. I'm underpaid, work long ass hours, and it's exhausting.”

Mickey frowned.

“But, Lip set me up with this lawyer who's helping me figure out my career options. It's seems like I won't be able to go back to my old job. But, I'm thinkin' about going back to school. We've been talking a lot about what'd be worth it.”

“Oh, yeah? Any ideas?”

“I was thinking about doing some technologist shit. Like x-ray or ultrasound tech. There's some programs at the community college the lawyer suggested. It'll take like a year or two either way and I'll be in debt for a couple of years, but, Mick, that could be huge. Those jobs pay really well. We could get a house in eight years.”

“Is that right?” murmured Mickey, with a familiar quirk of his brow, “You gonna take care of me, Red?”

Ian hummed into the receiver, nodding eagerly as his thoughts wandered to a hungry place.

“Wish I could right now,” returned Ian lowly, his eyes slipping down as far as they could on him.

Mickey smiled knowingly. He adjusted the receiver on his ear and leaned towards the glass more. Ian's glazed eyes rose to his favorite sparkling blues and he swallowed roughly.

He took a needed deep breath and quietly spoke, “Miss you so much, Mick.”

“Me too, Ian.”

Ian nearly spoke on how much time Mickey had left, but he learned after the second phone call that Mickey didn't want to hear a countdown. And Ian understood. If he had had someone say the words, _“Only one year left!”_ it would have crushed him. So, telling Mickey _only three years left_ would surely only break him down. Maybe when they were down to the last six months he would.

“Enough about me. How are things in here?”

Mickey grunted, readjusting on the uncomfortable seat. “Same as always. Cuervo was asking about you the other day.”

“Tell him I say hi,” smiled Ian.

“He definitely misses ya. We've had a lot of fresh meat lately, so I'm practically trippin' over dudes in here. Some of them are loud as fuck. I'm just waitin' for someone to teach 'em a lesson.”

“So long as it's not you.”

Mickey rolled his eyes playfully and put up his free hand, “My hand to Gay Jesus, I'll behave.”

Ian laughed while he attempted, but failed, to glare at him. Mickey simply tilted his head with a playful look that he missed more and more every day.

“Mandy said she's going to visit soon, so you might see her, too.”

“Oh yeah? That's great. I'll have to text her and see if she wants to come up together when she does.”

“She put a shit ton of money in my commissary.”

Ian sighed in relief. With said shit job he had been worried about how much he would be able to add once he got his first check. Maybe Mandy had known that.

As if Mickey had read Ian's thoughts he said, “Should last me a while. I got a new ecig and I'm trying not to touch the rest for a while.”

“Well, as soon as I can I'll add to it.”

“Don't worry about that.”

“At least enough for a few calls a week. I swear it's the only thing that keeps me sane.”

“Know what you mean,” frowned Mickey.

It grew quiet as they looked on at each other with equal sadness, until Mickey looked away. He looked like he had something to say, but it took a moment to muster up the courage. And even when he did, Ian couldn't believe how he said it with anything other than pride.

“Got my GED.”

“You did?” exclaimed Ian loudly, attracting a few looks from other visitors. He winced, but Mickey smiled amusingly. Ian just let out a bashful laugh and continued, “I can't believe you didn't tell me right away. I'm _so_ proud of you, Mick!”

“It's just my GED,” dismissed Mickey, although his cheeks were glowing at the praise.

“It's a big fucking deal, asshole,” argued Ian. He leaned closer, dropping his voice a bit as he continued, “And, ya know, it means everything to me. That says you're serious about starting a life with me.”

Mickey looked him over a bit, nibbling on his bottom lip. “Course I am. Have been for a long time.”

Ian smiled warmly and nodded. But, then a familiar loud buzzing broke the moment. Simultaneously the warmness of their expressions fell away. Always it filled him with panic.

“I'll see you Friday,” promised Ian, hoping his eyes said so even more than words ever could.

Mickey nodded, but still looked pained. “See you then.”

“I love you,” said Ian, leaning closer to the glass again.

Mickey gave a cautious glance around and murmured, “Love you too.”

Ian smiled, but then everyone around was standing and a voice over the intercom was telling everyone else to stop and go back. Mickey sighed and started to pull the receiver away when Ian called out to him to wait.

“Just...” Ian paused, a million things sitting on his tongue. It physically ached to not be able to touch him. “Keep thinking about our shitty apartment.”

Mickey's eyes seemed to mist up a bit, but a quick twitch of his mouth had the emotion clearing in an instant. He nodded.

“It's going to be so worth it, Mick. I can't wait.”

Mickey smiled warmly, glancing down. “I can't wait either. Dream about it every night.”

 

**

 

Ian's coworkers sucked. They were a bunch of old men insecure about their masculinity and intelligence. It put him on the defense every second of work. He had realized after his first week there that he wore the same expression, walked the same way, even, as he did when he was in prison.

Ian made it outside without catching any attention from the assholes he worked with and released a breath of relief. He couldn't wait to get a different job. His first semester of school would approach quickly, so he was determined to secure a better job before it did, for many reasons.

He leaned against the outside of the brick building, lighting a cigarette. He wiped his dirty hands on his pants as he closed his eyes and released a long hit through the cigarette between his lips, causing ashes to fly out in front of him.

Once his hands were somewhat clean he pulled his cellphone from his pocket to text Lip. However, he found a notification for a missed call. A frown broke out on his face as he realized it was from the prison, two hours into his shift. Mickey knew he was working, why would he call that early?

He wished he could at least leave a voicemail for him to listen to. What he would give to hear his voice now.

As if Mickey had heard his thoughts, sensed his need, his phone began to ring. Ian grinned as he answered and accepted the call.

“Hey,” breathed Ian happily when the call connected.

“Is this Ian Gallagher?” returned a different voice, one with an accent.

“Yeah, who's this?”

“Hey, man, it's Cuervo. Something happened to Mickey.”

“What?” exclaimed Ian, stepping away from the brick wall, “Is he okay?”

“Fuck if we know. You know they don't tell us shit. I'm keepin' my ears out, though.”

“What happened?”

“Cartel finally got a messenger on the inside,” answered Cuervo, a string of spanish words following that Ian could figure were mostly swear words. “Some _pinche_ _güey_ was transferred here last week.”

“What did he do?” questioned Ian frantically, possibly cutting Cuervo off before he could naturally explain, but he needed him to hurry along the story.

“Him and two other fuckers jumped Mickey in the shower. Stabbed him eight times.”

“Fuck,” exhaled Ian, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“The little firecracker got the one back, though,” offered Cuervo with some manner of amusement, “Stabbed him in the fuckin' foot.”

“Did they take him to the hospital? Do you know which one?” asked Ian, disregarding the man's last words.

“Yeah had to go to the hospital, but nah, man, don't know which one.”

“When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

Ian sucked down a long hit that killed the last quarter of his cigarette, prompting him to throw the butt down angrily. “I swear I'm his emergency contact.”

Cuervo let out a bitter laugh. “Think they give a shit about that? You could be his mom and they still wouldn't call you.”

“Fuck,” murmured Ian, running a hand over his face. “Alright, thanks for callin', man. Really appreciate it.”

“Got your backs. If I hear anything else I'll call again.”

“I'll toss some money in your commissary as soon as I can.”

“Thanks, _hermano_.”

“Break's over,” called a deep voice.

Ian turned enough to see his supervisor looking impatiently at him. There was no way he could finish out the last six hours of his shift, now. Ian simply turned and started walking away, giving a goodbye to Cuervo, who hung up.

“Where you going, dipshit?” called his supervisor.

“Family emergency, gotta go,” yelled Ian.

“You want this job or not?”

Ian threw a middle finger up and took off running, not looking back. He had to figure out where Mickey was. He had to make sure he was okay.

 

*

 

Ian spent the rest of the morning and the entirety of the afternoon on the phone. He called Mandy first, who also knew nothing about the situation, then the prison administration—many, many times. He moved on to calling every local hospital and hopelessness started to settle in.

Fiona came home at one point and sat next to him at the kitchen table with her own phone joining the quest. She held his hand and he didn't say how much of a comfort it was. How much that simple touch was something he had needed lately. He felt some ease move into his extremely restless body as he called the next hospital. He heard the words _security risk_ and knew he'd found the right one. However, when he requested more information he was shut down. When the call was disconnected he nearly threw his phone at the wall, instead restraining himself enough to only slam it down on the table.

He sat back and angrily ran his hands into his hair, gripping onto it a bit.

“Hey, this is good, Ian,” said Fiona, “Now you know where. Let Mandy know and see if she can get more info, yeah?”

Ian took a breath, letting her words settle into him. Yet the same thought that had been plaguing his mind for hours came tumbling from his mouth in a weak voice, “He could die, Fi. He—He could die and I wouldn't even get a chance to see him one more time. I can't do anything to help. I feel so useless.”

“He's not dead, Ian. That bitch of a nurse wouldn't have sounded so uptight about you knowin' he's there if he was already in the morgue. He's a fighter, right? Don't think about anything other than that, okay?”

Ian nodded and reached for his nearly empty pack of cigarettes. After lighting one up he passed the info off to Mandy, who returned a text saying, “k ty. I'll get em to talk.”

 

*

 

Almost two weeks passed by without any communication with Mickey. He didn't get to visit. Mickey didn't call him. He was in the dark with only the faintest light of hope that Mickey had survived and would be okay.

The call finally came just as Ian was pouring himself a needed cup of coffee. He was barely aware of Carl telling him a story from the table, his mind exhausted from obsessive thoughts of Mickey. He took a sip and noticed his phone lighting up on the kitchen counter. He nearly choked on the hot liquid when he saw the familiar number. He made a wish that it wouldn't be Cuervo calling with another update and answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Gallagher.”

Ian released a loud sigh and slumped against the counter. “Mick? You okay?”

“I'm thinking you know the answer to that question,” returned Mickey playfully.

“Seriously, Mickey, are you okay?” Ian tried again, his voice deep and serious.

“Yeah,” breathed Mickey, “I'm alright. Still hurt a lot, but my recovery's going well.”

“Thank goodness,” said Ian, “I was so scared.”

“Nurse told me you were harassing her,” laughed Mickey. “Calling every two seconds.”

“They wouldn't let me visit!” defended Ian, the exhaustion and anger of the situation all bubbling to the surface suddenly. “Because I'm not legal family, they couldn't even tell me anything. I practically had to cry on the phone just to get that chick to tell me you were going to live. _Legal_ family shouldn't mean anything so long as I'm your emergency contact, for fuck sake.”

“Should've married me, huh?” returned Mickey softly.

Ian paused, a gentle wave of something warm passing over him at the thought.

“Wouldn't have mattered, though,” continued Mickey, “Mandy said she tried to ask for a visit, too, but they weren't going to let her. Glad she didn't waste a flight out here to be rejected.”

“At least she got more info than me,” sighed Ian bitterly. “She's the only reason why I know you had surgery. Cuervo really helped, too.”

“Yeah, he had a shit eatin' grin on his face when I got back,” chuckled Mickey.

Ian snorted in amusement, picturing it well, and took a sip from his coffee. They settled into a sweet but tired silence for a moment. Until Ian asked, “What are you going to do, Mick? What if they try it again?”

“Eh, I'll really be ready next time.”

“Mickey—“ Ian began to chastise before he was cut off.

“Ian, I'll be okay. I _am_ okay, alright?”

“Don't be cocky just because you got lucky.”

“Lucky?” repeated Mickey, “Fuck that. I wasn't going to let those assholes kill me. Ain't no one taking me out.”

Ian clenched his jaw, looking around for his pack of cigarettes. He noticed Carl waving the pack in the air and silently thanked him as it was tossed over to the counter.

“Look they sent a message to the whole god damn world with that. Don't fuck with them. I don't think they're going to kill me. And if they try, I will be ready this time. I've even got a buddy system for the showers now.”

A smile started to crack on Ian's face and he didn't know if it was from insanity or actual amusement at the thought of Mickey Milkovich having a platonic shower buddy.

“I heard that over half of those assholes got away, ya know. Fuck do they care that I cut a deal?”

“Do you hear yourself? You rolled on a _cartel_. You know you probably cost them a ridiculous amount of money, right?”

“Whatever. They try me again and I swear they'll be gettin' more than a hurt foot outta the situation.”

Ian sucked in a quick hit of his cigarette and spoke, “I don't know, Mick, I'd like to maybe see you again. You wanna see me again?”

“Ian—“

“Do you want to see me again?”

“Obviously, asshole.”

“Okay, then maybe focus on stayin' alive, alright?”

“Milkoviches are cockroaches, don't forget that. A nuclear fallout ain't gonna keep me from your dramatic ass.”

“Fuck you,” breathed Ian through a smile, “Sorry I'm being so dramatic about you being _stabbed_ eight times.”

“Should've seen the blade. The saddest excuse for a shiv I've ever seen. Can't believe I had surgery because of it.”

“You're fuckin' ridiculous, you know that?”

“You know, I thought you were gonna be sweet talkin' me not chewing my ass out. I got stabbed, ya know!”

Ian cracked, laughing out loud. He heard Mickey chuckling, too, and felt himself relax a bit.

“I missed ya.”

“Missed you, too, Mick,” returned Ian warmly, “Don't ever scare me like that again.”

“I'll try my best not to.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a series of phone calls ranging from around 14 months to 18 months apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to thank everyone for the kind and encouraging comments! Honestly, it's inspired me enough to add a couple extra chapters like this, so thank you so much :) This fandom is the best <3

 

Ian barely registered the buzzing from his phone. It took every ounce of physical strength to roll to face it and even still as he reached for it, knowing he was exerting himself, he felt absolutely nothing. Or did he? Was his brain lying that he was exerting himself, or that he felt nothing? How could it be both? After a second thought he was sure that he just couldn't feel anything.

However, as he saw the number of the incoming call he puffed a desperate whimpering breath and answered it quickly. He went through the steps of accepting the call, his heart racing more and more in a needy cry for help.

“Was wondering if you were going to pick up,” grumbled Mickey by way of greeting.

Ian closed his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden rush of feeling in his body after being unable to feel anything at all for the last thirteen hours. His eyes abruptly filled with tears, both elated and upset that finally, finally, he was feeling _something_. He let out a shaky breath and managed to squeeze out, “Hey.”

“What's wrong?” asked Mickey after a pause.

Ian shook his head, his throat dry and swollen. “I don't know. Came on out of nowhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just woke up and felt wrong. Broken.”

It grew quiet again and panic began to rise in Ian. Mickey didn't need to hear this. As if he wasn't suffering enough in _prison_. And knowing that Ian was still broken wasn't exactly something to look forward to dealing with. A few tears slipped free from his eyes.

“Okay,” breathed Mickey, “That's okay, man. You're going to have these days, right?”

Shame filled Ian to the brim. He pulled his blanket up higher, to his shoulder, as he rolled onto his side, wiping his wet cheeks.

“You gonna see your therapist soon?”

“Yeah, Thursday.”

“Good,” returned Mickey, he sounded relieved, “That's good.”

“What if my meds are fucking up? What if I have to change them?”

“Then you have to change them. It'll be alright. You've done it before, you can handle this.”

Mickey sounded confident. So sure of Ian's ability. It gave him both reassurance and fear, that maybe he was wrong. He tried to sniffle quietly, but failed.

“It could just be an off day, right?” questioned Mickey.

“Yeah, guess so. Can't know,” replied Ian with an unexpected swell of anger, “I don't understand my own fucking brain. Hate this shit.”

“Yeah. Gotta be frustrating.”

Ian sighed. He was hearing Mickey's voice for the first time in a week and they were spending his whole fucking call talking about his stupid illness. His eyes ached as he fought back more worthless tears. Self-loathing filled him to the brim and he irritably spoke, “Sorry, Mick. I don't want to waste the call talking about this bullshit. It's pointless and not something you need to hear.”

“Shut the fuck up,” returned Mickey, “I don't want you hidin' shit from me, kay? I wanna hear about it. The good and the bad shit. It all matters to me.”

Ian frowned, appreciating Mickey's words, and yet he still couldn't help but think Mickey deserved better.

“How have you been lately? Anything overwhelming you?”

Ian paused, thinking on his last week. “I guess school is a little stressful. I'm worried that I won't be able to find a job and I'll just be in debt forever.”

“Nah man, you'll find a job. Anyone would want you after just one look.”

“I blew up a van. Why would anyone trust me?”

“You're not wasting your time and money in school to _not better yourself_. They'll see that. People love second chances.”

He couldn't deny that.

“Thanks, Mick.”

“Yeah. So tell me about your day?”

Ian let out a bitter laugh. “I haven't gotten out of bed. Debbie's checked on me eight times. Couldn't even say barely six words to her.”

“That doesn't matter. You're sayin' shit now, right? Focus on that.”

Ian couldn't believe that he smiled a bit.

“Yeah, you're right,” returned Ian. He paused to take a deep breath, “Fuck I can't wait until you're here with me.”

“I know. Wish I was in that bed with you right now. I'd cuddle the shit out of you.”

Ian let out a surprised laugh. “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, Red. I'd cuddle your brains out.”

Ian laughed more heartily.

“Man I missed that laugh,” said Mickey, he could hear the smile in his voice.

Ian beamed at the wall in front of him and felt a different emotion swell in him to a deliciously separate state of overwhelming magnitude. “I love you so much,” he said.

“Keep it that way.”

Ian grinned and replied, “As if I could ever change that.”

Mickey snorted, “Fuckin' weirdo.”

“Why, because I love you?” He couldn't say it enough.

“Yeah.”

“Then that's fine. Wouldn't want it any other way.”

“Alright, knock off the corniness.”

“Why? Am I making you blush in front of everyone?”

“Will you shut the hell up,” grumbled Mickey and Ian knew he had hit the nail on the head. “By the way, thanks for the picture you sent.”

Ian felt his cheeks hurt from grinning so hard. “Glad you like it.”

“Keep it under my pillow, like I'm waiting for the fuckin' tooth fairy to leave me a hot redhead, or some shit.”

Ian laughed. “You're so cute.”

“Shut up,” repeated Mickey with a groan.

“Hey, that's something else that'll go in our shitty apartment.”

“Hm?”

“Framed pictures. We gotta take lots of pictures to frame and hang up.”

Mickey chuckled, “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, that's what boring people do, right?”

“Fuck we're going to be so normal.”

“Not likely,” murmured Ian, as his mood shifted once more. He may have felt better for a bit, but he noted the dark pressure was still lingering below the surface.

“Compared to the first twenty years of our lives? Hell yeah we are.”

Ian let out a laugh. “Guess that's a good way of looking at it. You're seriously the best, you know that?”

“I mean it, man, you keep making me smile like an idiot and I'll hang up.”

“Yeah right,” grinned Ian, closing his eyes and summoning memories of Mickey smiling, “You love talking to me too much.”

“Shut up.”

 

 

**

 

“Mm, hey,” mumbled Ian, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Mhm.”

“You just sleepin' in today?”

“Yeah, getting caught up on sleep.”

“That's good.”

“Woke up to take m'pills and went right back to bed.”

There was a very long pause and Ian had to sit up so he wouldn't fall back asleep. “Sorry,” he murmured, “If you want to call back in a bit when I'm more awake and talking more...”

“Nah, man, it's cool,” returned Mickey, his voice was unexpectedly soft, “Kinda miss your sleepy voice.”

Ian smiled goofily and climbed out of the bed to stumble into some sweats.

“You're makin' all these little noises. Kinda cute.”

“Yeah?” His smile was staying strong. “You're making me all warm and fuzzy, Mick, might make me fall back asleep.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe I sho—“

An automated message began to play and Ian's tired brain stuttered to catch up to what had happened. Mickey ran out of money in his calling account.

As Ian made his way downstairs for coffee he tried hard to remember the last time Mickey had mentioned how much money was in his commissary, but he couldn't.

His morning gave way to showering and studying, but all the while he kept his phone close just in case. And right around noon it went off. He quickly shut his bedroom door for privacy and answered.

“Sorry bout that,” greeted Mickey, “Had to transfer money to my calling account and it took forever to go through. Then a buncha assholes took up the phones.”

Ian could certainly hear the other inmates. A lot of times he did and just learned to tune them out, but they seemed to be on another level today.

“It's okay, it happens. Did you want to call me back when the crowds aren't being as obnoxious?”

“They never fuckin' quiet down,” grumbled Mickey, “'s fine. What are you up to now, Sleepyhead?”

“Just studying,” breathed Ian, “Got a paper to write and a test on friday.”

“You nervous?”

“I think it'll be okay.”

“Good. What did—“ A loud uproar in the background made the rest of Mickey's sentence impossible to hear.

“What's that?”

“These fuckers are getting on my last nerve,” complained Mickey loudly enough for others to hear. “How about you talk and I'll try to listen?”

Ian frowned and tried to think of what to say. He felt frustrated that a simple call could be interrupted so much.

“Can't wait until we're in our apartment,” offered Ian, raising his voice to hopefully be heard well. “Then all we'll have to worry about is neighbors playing music a little too loud or vacuuming.”

Mickey chuckled. “ _That_ I can handle.”

“You say that now...”

“Eh, after being in here for four years, I'll be able to look on the brighter side of noise disturbances.”

Four years. Ian hated to be reminded. They were only at the halfway point of time without each other. Only halfway. It was discouraging every time Ian thought too hard on it.

“Oh, hey, I had an idea,” said Ian, a sudden topic he'd wanted to discuss coming to the forefront of his mind.

“What's up?”

“Liam and I were watching this show last night and I figured out what kind of dog we should get.”

“Oh, did you?”

“A bull terrier.”

“Which one is that?”

“You know the Target dog? The white one with the target around it's eye?”

“Oh yeah, those are weird lookin' fuckers.”

“They're cute! They remind me of you.”

“You sayin' I look weird, Gallagher?”

“Of course not. Jesus, you should know by now how much I like the look of you.”

“Yeah, well, explain yourself then.”

“They're medium built, intimidating looking, but loving to family members,” rattled off Ian, making it obvious that he had rehearsed this in his head multiple times. “They can get restless and destructive if they don't get exercise or enough attention, but when they're taken care of properly they're happy little members of the household. Playful and sweet. But, still protective as fuck.”

“That doesn't sound bad,” mumbled Mickey bashfully. “You gonna get one soon?”

“Fuck no. I'm still living with my siblings, right? Plus, I want to wait until you're out, so we can work with the dog together. It's gotta be trained by both of it's dads, right?”

“Are you gonna be one of those shitheads that refers to their dog as their kid and has bumper stickers that says shit like, _he rescued me_?”

Ian laughed thoroughly and simply replied, “Maybe. That a problem?”

“Just know that I'll be makin' fun of you all the time.”

“Yeah, right, you'll fall in love with it, too, and be just as bad.”

“Never really had a pet like that, so I dunno. We gonna train it to like roll-over and shit?”

“Yeah,” laughed Ian, “Maybe we'll pay for training classes.”

“Why the fuck would we waste money on that?”

“It's worth it! Especially for the breeds that need it. I'll show you some youtube videos of the difference.”

“I guess if we're going to be normal we should waste money on shit like that right?” joked Mickey, laughing to himself.

Ian chuckled and agreed, “I mean the dog itself is gonna cost a pretty penny, so.”

“Seriously? Shouldn't we just get a mutt then?”

“No! That's not what I envision. Don't mess with the image, Mick.”

“Gallagher, what kinda stress you gonna put me through when I get out?”

“You'll just have to wait and see,” grinned Ian.

 

 

 

**

 

Ian collapsed on his bed with a groan. Work had been killer. And he had school in the morning. His muscles ached even more at the thought of that. Only four more months of doing both. Just four.

His phone vibrated from the pocket of the coat he had yet to take off. With his eyes still closed he pulled it out and put it to his ear. The first syllable from the familiar automated message had Ian's eyes shooting open.

“Hi!” greeted Ian.

“Hey, man,” returned Mickey, “How was your day?”

“Exhausting. Yours?”

“Same shit, different day.”

“Yeah.”

Ian sat up and peeled away his coat, tossing it to the other side of the of the room. The quiet stretched a bit, but that was never really a problem. Just knowing they were able to speak if they wanted was the real joy of these calls.

“Got any plans for the night?”

“Bout to take a nap. But, some people at school invited me out.”

Mickey went quiet again and Ian realized that maybe talking about those types of freedoms was salt to ones wounds.

“You fuckin' anybody?” asked Mickey unexpectedly.

Ian choked on a breath, spitting out, “What?”

“I said are you fuckin' anybody? Dudes at school, or something?”

“No!” barked Ian, “I said I wasn't going to do that.”

“No one said you _had to_ do that for me,” returned Mickey, his voice casual, but Ian knew better. “Three years is a long time, man.”

Ian rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to tell me something? You fuckin' someone in there?”

“You think I would let someone fuck me in here?”

“No, but you might let someone give you a blowjob,” murmured Ian.

“Why'd you turn this around on me? Tryin' to avoid telling me something?”

“Dude, no one's touched me since you. Why are you so crabby?”

“Maybe because I want to know who's keeping that dick warm.”

Ian raised his brows, pausing to decipher what he was sure was really going on.

“You been thinking about my cock a lot today, Mick?”

“How about you answer _my_ questions, smart guy.”

Ian chuckled. “I promise, I'm the only one who's touching me. Now tell me how horny you are for me.”

Mickey scoffed.

“I know that's why you're in a bad mood,” challenged Ian, “You alone at the phones?”

“Yeah,” said Mickey quietly, “So, maybe you should talk. How you stayin' satisfied?”

“Well,” breathed Ian, glancing towards his beat up nightstand, “I got a toy a few months ago.”

“What kind?”

“One that I can fuck while I imagine it's your tight ass.”

Mickey breathed hard into the phone.

“Wasn't cheap, but I got a deal online.”

“Think I want to hear about online coupons right now?”

Ian laughed and returned, “No, I think you want me to paint a picture for you to masturbate to later on.”

“So get on with it,” returned Mickey, done with his former denial.

“Well, I picked one that's as close to that perfect ass of yours I could get. Plump, milky white, and tight as fuck.”

“Oh yeah? What'ya do with it?” purred Mickey.

Ian felt a flush of embarrassment, but when he closed his eyes and imagined Mickey was there with him—the one he had done everything to, that had always been open and willing in bed with him—he smirked a bit and swelled with confidence. “I like to put it on a pillow with the blankets around it and imagine it's you with your face down in the bed. And I fuck it so hard, Mick.”

Mickey groaned into the phone and Ian grinned.

“I talk to it like it's you. I know how you like it when I whisper in your ear. Just wish it could ride me like you do.”

“Fuck, Ian. Okay, you gotta talk to me about some boring shit, or somethin'. Can't be sitting here with a tent anymore.”

Ian laughed thoroughly, while Mickey told him to _fuck off_ irritably.

“Can't wait until I can have that thick cock in my mouth, again.”

“Ian,” warned Mickey.

“You know when you get out I'm not letting you leave our bed for two days, right? I'll call off of work and wear your ass out until you can't walk.”

“Our bed, huh?” mumbled Mickey bashfully.

Ian's heart swelled at the thought that Mickey had picked out something sweet from those dirty words. The importance of it to him was obvious.

“That's right. Either in our shitty apartment, or here, it'll be _our_ bed.”

“So, you're still stuck at the Gallagher house, huh?”

“Yeah,” sighed Ian, “I've thought about moving out, but I think it's a smarter choice to save for a car instead of a deposit on a place. Especially after paying for books for school, because fuck those were expensive. And you know I'd tell ya if I made any big decisions.”

“Yeah. You're making the right choices, anyhow. Proud of ya.”

Ian glowed happily. “Thanks, Mick.”

“Not easy to bounce back after serving time, ya know. I've never seen anyone do it before. Don't know how I'm going to when I get out.”

“You'll have me. I've got your back.”

 

 

 

**

 

“I miss working out with you,” stated Ian. “I think we should join a gym together.”

“Ian,” laughed Mickey, “We're gonna be wasting so much money on bullshit.”

“That's what normal boring people do, Mick!” defended Ian with a grin.

“We're creative enough to workout without paying thirty bucks a month.”

“Guess you're right. Maybe we'll get one of those strength training machines in our place?”

“Oh my fuckin' god, you seriously do want to throw our money away, huh?”

“It's an investment.”

“Whatever. I've been strength training without fancy machines since I was a kid, no thanks.”

“I'm really going to have to work with you on spending money, huh?”

“Guess you can try. I'm just not gonna be stupid about it.”

Ian shook his head, chuckling. “It'll take time to adjust, but with the money I'll be bringing in, I'm gonna spoil your ass.”

“Yeah? That a promise?”

“Mhm,” Ian hummed enthusiastically. “Can't fuckin' wait.”

Mickey let out a soft noise. “I was tellin' my cellmate, David, about some of the bullshit we've been through together. Should'a seen his jaw hanging on the floor. He suggested when I get out and we've got our whole borin' lives going on that I should write a book about it.”

“I love that,” beamed Ian, “I'll help! We could sell the story to a movie company and make a shit ton of money and retire early.”

Mickey laughed thoroughly. “Sounds like a damn plan.”

“We're gonna kick life's ass together, Mick. It's going to be amazing." Mickey simply chuckled softly, so Ian asked, “What? Don't believe me?”

“You're just one giant fuckin' positive beam of light, man. Secretly love it.”

“Oh yeah? Well, it's your fault. You make me this way.”

Mickey fell silent and Ian's smile slowly disappeared. He waited, and waited, and even glanced at his phone to make sure the call was still going.

“Mick?”

“Sorry,” mumbled Mickey.

“It's okay. Something the matter?”

“No, not at all,” answered Mickey, still quiet, “It just kinda hit me.”

“What did?”

“How much time you've waited, and that you're still waiting.” Mickey let loose an audible sigh before continuing, “Guess I thought you'd wait for me for six months, or somethin', then give up.”

“Why would I give up?”

“I dunno. It's a long time. Thought maybe a better prospect would stroll pass you one day or some shit.”

Ian clicked his tongue, but Mickey pressed on, “It's just pretty awesome. You've waited this long, so now I feel like, why wouldn't you wait out the rest? It'd be pretty dumb if you gave up now after all this time, right?”

Ian smiled warmly down at the floor and melted into the moment. “Glad you're finally getting it, Mick. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Took me a minute, but I think I'm finally catching up to you.”

“It's okay, you're just a little bit of a slow runner.”

“Hey, screw you,” laughed Mickey, “How am I supposed to keep up with those long legs?”

“True, I have an advantage. But, I always believed in you. Maybe you just didn't stretch enough before you started, ya know?”

“The fuck are we even talkin' about anymore?”

Ian laughed and replied, “Made sense in my head.”

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Ian smiled warmly while he put the cold receiver to his ear, and yet he received a frown in return.

“You look tired,” said Mickey worriedly, “You doin' okay?”

“Yeah, Mick. I had to stay up all night the night before, cramming for a test, then worked and barely got three hours of sleep last night.”

“You didn't drive here, did ya?”

“Gotta break in the new car,” joked Ian, but Mickey glared in return.

“You didn't have to come here.”

“But, I wanted to,” pouted Ian.

“Well, I want you to _not_ crash and die in a car wreck because your dumb ass didn't sleep instead of coming to see me.” Mickey rubbed the back of his neck, looking Ian over, “You gonna get some coffee at least before you head back?”

“Yeah, promise,” smiled Ian. “So, tell me how you're doing.”

Mickey sighed, but seemed to give in. “Started taking classes,” he mumbled.

“What? Speak up, Mick, you know these things suck.”

Mickey glanced nervously at the guy to his left, causing Ian to look at the other man suspiciously.

“Started taking some classes,” said Mickey clearly, but tightly. “To pass the time. I'm thinking about going to school for accounting or business, or somethin'.”

Ian was frozen for a moment in surprise, which only seemed to make Mickey squirm. He rolled his eyes and said, “Ian, don't look so surprised.”

“But—Sorry, it's just, well, I am.”

“David there," Mickey tugged his head to the left towards the booth beside them, "helps his wife, Aniyah, run a business and he said they could use more help they can trust, so. They're suspicious of the accountant they have now and want to replace him. I guess the store manager is just as worthless, so they're giving me some options to consider.”

“That's him?” Ian blatantly pointed at Mickey's cellmate, too surprised by this development to be subtle. “Wait, they're offering you a job?”

“Yes and yes. Keep up, Red,” returned Mickey with a scowl as he practically curled in on himself in the booth. Ian let out a laugh at how bashful Mickey was being at the whole thing, which only deepened the brunette's scowl.

“That's exciting! I'm so proud of you.”

“For what?” groaned Mickey, “I literally haven't done anything yet. I'm just trying to pass the time. And David's got my back.”

“You're _dreaming_ , Mickey,” grinned Ian, “You're actually letting yourself accept that you can have better things. That's what I'm proud of.”

Mickey obviously fought away a smile and looked down to hide it when he couldn't anymore.

“Anyways, accounting is a great idea. Or business management in general,” encouraged Ian, “You've always been good with numbers. And so long as you've got an in with someone for a job, it's definitely worth it.”

“That's what David said,” murmured Mickey, “I guess their business is expanding, so it seems like a lot of options'll be there when I get out. They like the idea that I ran a business before.”

“The rub 'n tug?” laughed Ian.

Mickey gave him the finger. “Don't matter what it was, it was still a business that I ran. That's why I'm takin' classes, to learn all the legal shit and paperwork.”

Ian felt wide awake now as he continued to babble excitedly about what that could mean for their future. Mickey was a grumpy old man about it, but Ian knew that was just to cover up how excited he also felt. When the annoying buzzer echoed throughout the room David stood up behind Mickey, catching Ian's eyes. He beamed at the stranger, wanting to express his gratitude for him. He was a towering man with a bright smile.

He bent down towards Mickey and Ian heard him ask, “That your dude?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just nice to put a face to him, after hearing you talk about him for the last year.”

Ian grinned massively as the man winked at him. He barely heard Mickey telling the man to fuck off as he plucked the receiver from Mickey's hand.

“Hey, Ian, I'm David. Just want you to know I got your guy's back.”

“Thank you so much,” said Ian sincerely, trying to convey as many layers as he could in those words.

“You bet. This tough lil' fucker has had my back, too, trust me.”

Mickey ripped the receiver from David's grip and said something that had David just laughing at him and patting him on the back before he departed with the rest of the inmates.

“I like him!”

“Yeah, yeah, calm down, firecrotch,” returned Mickey, but he was also grinning.

The guard called out to him, so they rushed through their goodbyes. Still, Ian felt better than he ever had before watching Mickey walk away through the doorway, back towards his cell.

He felt like he was bouncing on clouds as he exited the prison. And when he spotted the woman that had been sitting beside him inside, carrying a toddler on her hip, he jogged after her.

“Hey, excuse me,” he called out.

She glanced back at him nervously and didn't stop walking.

“Sorry to bother you,” said Ian gently, keeping up with her now, “You're David's wife, right? Aniyah?”

She paused, finally, and looked him over suspiciously.

“Why?”

“I guess he's my boyfriend's cellmate.”

“Oh, Mickey?”

“Yeah,” grinned Ian proudly.

“You're Ian, right?”

Ian's heart skipped a beat. He really had talked to David about him so much that David had apparently even told her about him.

“That's right. Mickey was just telling me about how you guys are offering him a job and I just wanted to thank you. And seriously can't thank your husband enough. Mickey has a hard time believing in himself.”

“Yeah, David mentioned he's had a hard life.”

“I'm sure he hasn't even told him the half of it.”

“Men and their pride,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Ian snorted. “I won't argue that.”

 

 

**

 

“Hey,” smiled Aniyah as she opened the door to the backseat.

“Hey guys,” returned Ian happily, watching as she buckled her son into the booster seat that pretty much stayed in Ian's car.

“Hi, Ian!” the small boy greeted in return.

It had become routine to pick them up and carpool to the prison on visiting days. Ian and her had grown very close in the last few months and it helped, having someone that understood exactly how it felt to have their significant other locked up. They had spent many nights venting about the difficulties it brought on. The fears and loneliness.

When Aniyah got situated in the passenger seat she pulled a plastic package from her purse and grinned as she handed it to him.

“What's this?”

“It's for the college graduate,” she sang.

He popped it open to find chocolate cupcakes and smiled bashfully. He reached over to hug her in thanks, delaying their journey a few minutes while he ate half of one. He offered one to her son, but she informed him that one was missing from the package _because_ of her son. With a laugh he put the car in drive and they headed out.

“Honestly don't know how I survived the last month of school. That was rough.”

“Because, you're a smart kid. And you've got the motivation of providing for that grumpy beau of yours.”

Ian laughed and agreed. “I'm taking my test next week to get state licensing. Stomach's in knots over it.”

“Nah, don't worry, you've got this. That's just a formality. And worse case scenario you just have to wait a little bit longer and try again, right?”

“Yeah,” agreed Ian quietly, “Guess I'm just ready to be done with this. Can't wait to work a job with normal hours that pays well.”

Aniyah pfft'ed and returned, “Honey, I don't even know what that's like.”

“Because you're a badass with her own business.”

She laughed and playfully agreed with a tilt of her chin.

“So, only thirty days left for David, right?”

Her face lit up. “I can't believe it. Finally.” With a wince she cast an apologetic look his way and added, “Sorry. I know you two still have a bit. You're almost at two years, huh?”

“You're fine. And yeah, it's been twenty-one _long_ months. I feel more sorry for Mick than myself, though.”

“Me, too, Honey.”

“At least we've made it over half way. Now it's just roughly sixteen months, or so. He should be out sooner. And even if he isn't, only sixteen months? Come on, that's easy.”

“You are way too positive for your own good.”

Ian laughed, “You sound like Mickey.”

 

*

Aniyah and Ian got separated at the phones, so he called out to her to give David his best and took his seat for a wait that he was deeply familiar with at this point. He knew the sound of the door popping open like he knew the sound of his own voice. That didn't stop him from grinning like an idiot when he heard it, though.

When Mickey walked into the room Ian's excited grin fell away. He was sporting a black eye and split lip. And yet for some reason as Mickey sat down in front of him, looking this way, he was beaming at Ian.

“Hey, guess what?” said Mickey, excitedly.

“Mickey, what the fuck?” returned Ian, dismissing whatever the hell could possibly have Mickey looking so happy, considering he had clearly been in a fight. “Who did that? Are you okay?”

“Huh?”

“Your fucking face, Mick! What happened?”

“Oh, yeah, a couple assholes jumped me this morning. They've been up my ass for weeks. Used my bein' a snitch as an excuse to take out whatever fuckin' frustrations they have. Whatever.”

Ian's foot was bouncing anxiously as he listened, his head shaking the whole time.

“Will you stop acting like it's just fine. Are you okay?”

“It _is_ fine,” argued Mickey with a roll of his eyes, “Promise I didn't get stabbed or nothin'. And Cuervo jumped in and helped.”

“That didn't add any time to your sentence, did it? You didn't, like, stab _them_ , did you?”

Mickey chuckled and with a shining smile drawled, “Nope...”

“Why do you look so fucking happy? You were just attacked this morning.”

His smile only grew, which caused Ian's shaking leg to freeze. Suspicion swarmed his body, but he refused to let it lead to hope. Not until he knew for sure.

“Mickey, what's going on?”

“Guess who found out he's eligible for parole?”

“Are you fucking serious?” gasped Ian, an uncontrollable grin springing out.

“Yeah,” smirked Mickey, “Submitted my application yesterday.”

“Oh my god!”

Mickey glanced around the room at Ian's exclamation and leaned forward a bit. “Don't get too excited. Doesn't mean I'll be approved and since mine is a special case, might not find out for another five or six months.”

“But, it's possible,” emphasized Ian, “You've been really well behaved. The only problems you've had involved _you_ being attacked.”

“Well, let's not act like these fuckers care who started it.”

“C'mon, let me be hopeful, asshole.”

Mickey grinned and shrugged. “I mean, I was told that it shouldn't be a problem. This morning might fuck with it, though. But, the chick I talked to said that it looks really good on my application that I got my GED and been taking business classes. Proves I wanna be a good citizen or some shit.”

Ian couldn't stop smiling, he knew his face was hot and glowing with excitement. He couldn't even think straight. “It's gonna happen, Mick,” he managed to say, “I know it is.”

“Yeah, well, I'll believe it when I see it,” returned Mickey hopelessly, and yet he was also still wearing a million dollar smile that contradicted his words. As if he could sense it as much as Ian could. They were going to get this. They were finally going to catch a fucking break.

They were ready to start their new life together.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short update, but we're winding down now. Only two more chapters after this!
> 
> Also, please excuse any mistakes in this chapter. I'm hella tired but was too excited to wait to post this :3


	8. Chapter 8

It was just over two months later when Ian got the call.

He was at work, filling out paperwork and thinking about getting a green tea. He had settled into not only the job, but this particular clinic very quickly. The forty-minute commute had been frustrating at first, but he hadn't really had a choice given this was the one place that had called him about an interview after he received his state license. Now, five weeks later he was so happy they had called.

Once he had met his co-workers he was surprisingly pleased by how much it had worked out. The laid back nature of the clinic and it's workers was exactly the type of environment he needed to work in to find steady peace. He figured he would move closer to it eventually, anyhow. Finding a place to live was one of the many unexpectedly difficult things to accomplish as a felon.

Ian heard his phone buzzing, but finished filling out the column on the form he was working on before he even looked at it. His brow furrowed when he saw the number. Mickey knew he was at work, why would he call? As he answered it he felt transported back to that horrifying moment he had found out Mickey had been attacked.

He held his breath, squeezing out a, “Hello?”

“Hey, Gallagher,” returned Mickey, and Ian deflated, “You busy?”

“Nah, just doing paperwork. What's up?”

“I got it.”

Ian's stomach jumped. “Got what?”

“They approved my parole. I'm getting' out,” answered Mickey, with an obvious smile in his voice.

If Ian wasn't already sitting he might have fallen over as his entire body seized up. He gasped in a breath and questioned, “Seriously? Are you serious? You're not fuckin' with me?”

Mickey's responding laugh sent chills up Ian's body.

“I'm serious, man. I'll be getting out friday.”

Friday? That was only _three days_ away. Three days, that's it, that's all that was left. Ian really couldn't breathe now. His eyes were wet and his smile was painfully large.

“So, what'cha say, firecrotch? Still waitin' for me?”

“Fuck yes,” answered Ian breathlessly. “I'll be there to pick you up, Mick! I just—“

Ian's fingers rushed to his eyes, wiping tears away, and a delirious laugh fell from his mouth. “I can't believe this is really happening. I can't believe it's over.”

 

**

 

Ian woke up an entire hour before his alarm was set to go off. There was a smile on his face as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Today was the day. _Today_.

He couldn't stop smiling as he had breakfast, a cup of coffee, and even when he took his pills. His shower was indulgent and thorough, filled with the sounds of the music he sang along with coming from his bluetooth speaker.

There wasn't much to tidy-up in his apartment, but he still cleaned for an hour somehow. He even washed the sheets on the bed. When he pulled them from the dryer, taking a huge whiff of the amazing scent of the fabric softener, he smiled happily, thinking of just how comfortable this bed would be for Mickey. He had even bought a new pillow for him.

Ian tried to sit on the couch to pass the time, attempting to distract himself with online news, but he couldn't stand to wait. He ended up throwing on his jacket, grabbing his keys and rushing out the door. He practically skipped down the stairs to leave the building.

And once he was driving towards the prison his music was again cranked up and he was dancing in his seat. He wasn't sure how he'd even heard his phone. Cutting the music, he answered it without looking away from the road.

“Helloooo!” sang Ian.

A familiar laugh came through, Mandy's. “Your excitement answers my question,” she said by way of greeting.

He chuckled, “What's that?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were still able to pick that shithead up.”

“On my way there, now!”

“Aren't you going to get there like an hour early?”

“Mhm. You know how processing is. He's either going to get out super early or really late. Figured I'd be prepared either way.”

“The devotion you have for that idiot amazes me.”

“He's so worth it,” responded Ian confidently, “When you coming out to visit? I'm sure he'd love to see ya.”

“I'm thinking next month. Can I stay with you guys?”

“Absolutely! That'd be so much fun!”

Mandy laughed again. “You are way too excited Ian Gallagher. Give him my love, alright?”

Ian ended up arriving at the prison even earlier than he and Mandy thought he would. But, this gave him time to pick up a couple of coffees and a pack of Mickey's favorite cigarettes. He waited outside by his car while the chilly morning air faded away.

He was ready to start running laps around the neighboring block when Mickey walked out, dressed in jeans and a ratty hoodie. Ian was frozen in place as he watched him approach with a beautifully familiar cocky grin, strutting like he ruled the world.

When he cleared the gates Ian dropped his cigarette butt from between his fingers and moved to meet him halfway. They crashed into each other with a hug that was tight and instantly warm. Their arms were wrapped around each other like they were trying to mold into one being.

Their racing hearts between them pounded so hard that Ian swore they touched. He lowered his head to Mickey's shoulder and released a shaky breath onto the nape of his neck. Mickey's hand moved up to stroke the back of his head and Ian melted that much more into him. However, he felt the tug from Mickey, the most subtle indication of his desire, and Ian pulled away enough to kiss him.

It was wide and consuming, but slow in their equal expression of the burning passion that would undoubtedly always remain between them. His hand moved to caress Mickey's cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss even more. Mickey grasped onto Ian's hair and slid his tongue against his in a silky movement that had Ian's knees going weak. His other arm tightened around Mickey's body and he sighed in contentment into his mouth.

Eternity passed, or maybe just a moment; it was impossible to know as time froze and centered around this moment.

Ian breathed shallowly, eyes still shut tight, as he pulled away to speak, “Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” said Mickey shakily, grinning against Ian's mouth.

They both moved enough to lock eyes and Ian swore he would never, ever get enough of the soft smile that Mickey wore. It deeply spoke to Ian.

“Let's go home so we can do that for the next three days,” suggested Ian, still breathless as he pulled Mickey towards his beat up car. They both still wore toothy grins as they finally separated and climbed inside of it.

“I think your coffee's still hot,” offered Ian with a quick point to the drink in the cup holder between them. He laughed when he heard Mickey moan with a mouth full of coffee. He'd never heard a more beautiful sound. He may have pushed on the gas pedal a little too eagerly because of it.

“So, next three days, huh?” repeated Mickey, wearing a smirk now even while his eyes curiously scanned the car.

“I always have weekends off, so I only had to take today off—and they totally understood.”

“That's pretty cool of 'em.”

“I've been talking to them about it since day one on the job,” chuckled Ian, garnering a loving look from Mickey. “And anyways, I warned you that I wouldn't let you out of our bed for two days, right?”

Mickey laughed and nodded, “And you better make good on that after all this time. 'cept I have to check in with my parole officer tomorrow.”

Ian nodded. “And David and Aniyah invited us over for dinner on Sunday.”

“I guess you better get me a wheelchair then,” joked Mickey.

Ian glanced to him with a confused look.

“You're the one who promised I wouldn't be able to walk once you were done.”

Ian laughed and returned, “Guess we better make a stop at the medical supply store, eh?”

Mickey shrugged with a suggestively raised brow and Ian almost pulled over just to kiss him again. He painfully forced his eyes back to the road.

“The guys all say hi, by the way,” spoke Mickey, as if knowing that Ian needed a subject change to get them home safely. “Cuervo made me promise like eight fuckin' times to visit him.”

“We can go together?” suggested Ian.

Mickey smiled and nodded. “That egomaniac wants us to name our dog after him, by the way.”

“Wait, what?” laughed Ian. “You told him that we want a dog?”

“Not a whole lot of conversation starters in there.”

Ian snorted and agreed.

“So he says, outta nowhere, to name the dog after him, so we won't _forget about him_.”

Ian chuckled and returned, “As if we ever could. And hey, it's not a bad idea. I mean, to anyone else it'll just seem like we're super into tequila.”

Mickey laughed and unexpectedly reached a hand over to Ian's thigh. He grinned as he dropped a hand from the steering wheel to hold Mickey's hand instead.

“So, I get to see the apartment, huh? How you liking it?”

“I love it. I mean, it's only been a few weeks, so I'm waiting for the magic to die. It might just be the independence and quiet time that makes it seem so magical.”

“I'll be the judge of that.”

 

*

 

Ian smiled and greeted one of the neighbor's as they passed her outside of the building.

“This Mickey?” she asked with a friendly smile.

“Yeah,” beamed Ian proudly.

She introduced herself and Mickey complied with a quick handshake and nervous glance at Ian. Thankfully, she didn't linger. So, he held the door open for Mickey, who looked him over suggestively while he walked in. Ian smirked as he followed him in.

“Jesus, Gallagher, you tell everyone about me?” questioned Mickey once the door shut behind them.

“Yup,” returned Ian immediately, truthfully, as he lead the way up the stairs to the second floor. “She's your neighbor now, too, anyways, so.”

“I've never lived in such a clean building before,” chuckled Mickey, “The neighbors all as nice as her?”

“Well, confession,” began Ian as they neared the end of the hall where their apartment was, “it's not as shitty as the apartments on McKinley. That's not going to be a deal breaker for you, right?”

Mickey laughed and gave him the finger, prompting Ian to grab hold of his shirt and yank him into another kiss right outside of the apartment. Mickey moaned into his mouth and Ian wasn't sure he could focus on anything else ever again.

“Let me in and I'll let you in,” breathed Mickey, causing Ian's entire body to heat up.

That helped him focus, and he wasted no time unlocking the door to shove it open. Mickey moved in first and turned in a slow circle as he looked around small dining room and living room. His expressive brow was high as he nodded. “Not shitty, at all, man.”

Ian grabbed his hand, ever surprised at how warm and soft it was, and excitedly spoke, “Let me give you the tour.”

He showed Mickey the kitchen, first, which he had made sure to stock with food the day before. He bypassed the living room and dining room as there wasn't much to be seen in those rooms, yet. When they reached the bathroom down the deceptively long hallway Mickey stopped to take a piss. Ian leaned against the doorway and didn't miss the chance to say, “The shower's nice, by the way.”

Mickey glanced over his shoulder with another smirk that had Ian bashfully looking down to the floor.

He pointed out the linen closet in the hall and flipped on the light for the laundry room which doubled as a storage room. And then they were moving into the bedroom. There wasn't much to it, yet. It just had a queen sized bed and small nightstand. And yet Mickey eyed it all with a strangely soft expression. Ian watched his every movement, taking in every single detail like he had never seen him before.

“It's a really nice place,” murmured Mickey while he turned to face Ian, "Seems pretty magical to me."

He smiled warmly and Ian mirrored it, letting the moment breathe. They basked in the reality that they had waited so long for, staring into each other's eyes silently until their desire burst like an overfilled balloon.

“C'mere,” whispered Mickey with a slight tug of his head and Ian didn't hesitate to comply the request.

Their lips welcomed each other like the old lovers that they were, sucking and moving even more hungrily than outside of the prison. They were completely alone, for the first time in _years_ , and they had nothing but time to exchange heated passion.

Mickey's hands wandered Ian eagerly, as if he was making sure it was all the same. Perhaps he was trying to confirm that this wasn't just a dream, just as Ian was when he pushed his hands up under the back of Mickey's shirt. His hands sizzled with pleasure at the feel of Mickey's soft skin. This had him hastily pushing Mickey's hoodie off of his arms to the floor. He stripped his shirt away, breaking their kiss just long enough to do so.

However, when Ian's hands felt all of Mickey's bare torso he released an uncontrollable groan of painful need and disconnected their mouths again to kiss Mickey's neck instead. Mickey breathed sharply in Ian's ear and lowly spoke, “Get these fuckin' clothes off, man.”

Ian pulled his shirt off over his head in an instant and moved back enough to step out of his pants once he'd unbuttoned and unzipped them. Their gazes met in a fiercely different way now—it was almost overwhelming. Ian wasn't sure he was breathing, and he really didn't care. He'd die happy.

Mickey bit his bottom lip, watching Ian's pants fall away with a heated gaze that would always turn Ian into a mess. He swore aloud and wrapped his hand around Mickey's neck, pulling him into another deep, fervent kiss. His hands dropped to take Mickey's pants off, and thankfully he assisted him as Ian's fingers fumbled in his scrambled-brain state. As he stepped out of them Ian pulled their bare chests together, greedily burying his tongue into Mickey's mouth.

Mickey's blunt nails slowly ran down Ian's back which served to make Ian's arousal turn pleading. He moved them back until they were laying down on the bed, where their lips separated again.

As they climbed up the bed towards the pillows Mickey smirked at him. His eyes dared Ian to do everything he had promised in calls and letters and Ian swallowed roughly. He moved to be over top Mickey, who lifted his head to kiss him. However, Ian pulled back an inch and grinned.

“What?” nodded Mickey.

“ _Welcome home_ , Mick.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is going to be more like a bonus chapter of domestic fluff and an insight to where their life is going :3 Thank you so much for reading! You guys are amazing <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This conclusion takes place about 14 months later :)

Ian awoke to the distant sound of his alarm, though he stayed trapped in the sleepy haze of his mind until Mickey began to squirm in his arms. He felt him pull away enough to shut the alarm off and sighed happily when the sound stopped. He immediately pulled Mickey's warm body back in close and buried his face in the crook of his neck.

He felt Mickey laugh a bit and snuggle back into him. He might've started to fall back asleep, but Mickey's deep voice pulled him back to reality.

“Gotta get up, man,” he said, “I shut the alarm off, so if we fall back asleep there'll be no snooze to wake you up.”

Ian pulled in a deep breath through his nose, relishing in the scent he got from Mickey's skin. He kissed that same spot a few times; softly and lazily.

“Just five more minutes,” pleaded Ian groggily.

Mickey turned and Ian finally opened his eyes a bit to look at him. Before he got a clear view Mickey was pressing a warm loving kiss to Ian's lips. Ian leaned into it, opening his mouth for another, but the second was brief as Mickey pulled away and spoke softly, “I'll go make coffee, you stay here for a few more minutes.”

Ian smiled happily as he rolled into his pillow, shutting his eyes to indulge in a little bit more sleep. He felt Mickey kiss his forehead before hearing him leave the room. It felt like just a moment later Mickey was back, speaking more boisterously, and turning on the lamp.

“Rise and shine, Sleepyface,” he called and Ian groaned.

Ian felt the bed shake, not by Mickey, but their puppy, Cuervo Jr. hopping up to greet him. It was the total contrast of Mickey's warm soft wakening attempt earlier. Cuervo Jr. practically jumped on Ian's head, before giving his face a bath with his stinky tongue.

Ian laughed, pushing the dog away and finally sat up. He looked to where Mickey was putting on a shirt to go with his pajama bottoms and smiled goofily at him.

“What?” laughed Mickey.

“Just never get tired of waking up to you.”

Mickey's smile was bashful but full as he gave Ian the middle finger and departed. Ian laughed and rose to apply his jogging clothes. His morning routine altered to him bringing Cuervo Jr. along for his morning jogs, which was kind of nice. The first few times he had had to carry the pup for the last half, but as the dog grew and became used to the exercise, their morning runs had become equally beneficial.

This was the exact reason why Cuervo Jr. happily ran to the front door, wagging his tail endlessly as he waited for Ian to catch up.

“Be back in a bit,” Ian called out as he slipped his sneakers on at the front door.

“Alright, breakfast'll be ready,” returned Mickey from the kitchen.

Ian grinned as he clipped the leash to Cuervo Jr.'s collar, then left with an extra charge of happy energy to fuel his exercise.

  
  


*

  
  


Ian gasped, his heart hammering angrily in his chest as he unlocked the door to the apartment complex. He looked down to Cuervo Jr., the dog was panting tiredly beside him waiting patiently to be let in. It was love at first sight when Mickey and Ian saw the multi-colored bull terrier. His fur was mostly made up of blacks and browns, and he had greeted them with an excited wobbly walk that made Ian melt and exclaim, “This one!”

They had in fact splurged for training classes and it paid off. He was incredibly well behaved even at only eight months old.

Once inside the building, Ian unhooked the leash from the dog's collar and commanded, “ _Inside._ ”

Cuervo Jr. took off up the stairs, heading straight for their apartment door and Ian grinned, following as quickly as his body would allow. “Good boy!” praised Ian as the dog glanced back with a wagging tail, waiting for him to catch up.

Inside the apartment he found a familiar, yet always wonderful, sight of Mickey at his desk in the corner of the living room, talking away to someone on the phone. He loved Mickey's business voice. It was something he never thought Mickey would use with strangers. Gentle, patient, and diplomatic.

Mickey turned in his office chair and smiled at both Ian and Cuervo Jr. standing in the entry way, panting like they'd never breathe right again. Ian sent him a wink and headed to the kitchen for a bottle of water. He checked Cuervo Jr.'s water supply, too, before moving to the dining room table where he collapsed in a chair. And there on the table was a truly amazing sight. Mickey had made him an omelet, poured him a cup of coffee, and even had his pill organizer sitting at the center of the table.

He guzzled down half of the bottle of water before he started to inhale the omelet, pausing halfway through to take his meds. He was just about done with the rest of the omelet when he finally heard Mickey ending his call.

“How was the run?” asked Mickey, even while he was preoccupied writing something down in his planner.

“Great,” answered Ian through a mouthful of the last bite, “Cuervo Jr.'s really keeping up with me better. I think I'll be able to start taking him for longer runs soon.”

As if proud of himself Cuervo Jr. made his way to Mickey's side, wagging his tail, and nudging his nose into Mickey's thigh.

“Hey, buddy,” said Mickey, dropping his pen to turn and give the dog his undivided attention.

Ian sipped his coffee as he watched Mickey pet the dog with enthusiasm and praise. Mickey leaned down to plant a kiss on the top of the dog's head before making his way to the dining room, where he scooped up a coffee mug that had apparently been abandoned for the call.

“Pretty early for a call, isn't it?”

“It was that god damn contractor, again,” grumbled Mickey, “Dude has a new question or problem every hour, I swear. Not like he's building the fuckin' place, just fixin' it up.”

“Does Aniyah think the new branch will open on time?”

“For sure. I'll make sure it does, either way, even if I gotta threaten his ass. Guys like him hear the word  _felon_  and piss their pants.”

Ian laughed and reached out for the drawstrings of Mickey's pajama bottoms. He gave them a tug and Mickey smiled, gliding closer until he was in front of him. Ian eyed his hips with appreciation, slipping his hands onto his thighs.

“You wouldn't do anything, though, right?” questioned Ian with a tilt of his head and playful glance.

Mickey scoffed. “I've got a good thing goin' now, I'm not riskin' it for that asshole or any other.”

“Mmm,” hummed Ian pleasantly, leaning in to nuzzle his face against Mickey's chest. “Are you nervous about overseeing  _two_  branches?”

“Nah, I've got this,” answered Mickey, “Don't mean to sound like some smug asshole, but I was made for this shit. It makes sense to me. I'm good with the numbers and coordinating business plans. It also helps that I can strike fear into everyone that works beneath me. Honestly, it's actually kinda fun juggling stuff like this.”

Ian raised his gaze to Mickey, wrapping an arm around him tight and smirked. Mickey raised a brow and took a sip from his coffee, before setting it back on the table.

“What, got somethin' to say, tough guy?”

Ian rose to his feet in a fluid motion that had their bodies meeting with friction. He leaned close to Mickey's face and spoke, “I just think it's sexy.”

“You do, huh?” grinned Mickey.

“Mhm. You're so confident about something that most people lose their minds stressing over. You being confident in your skills, Mick, is very hot.”

“Well, you might have to tell me more about it when you get home from work, huh?”

Ian broke from his trance, glancing to the clock on the dining room wall, and swore loudly. He gave Mickey a quick kiss and ran for the shower, stripping along the way.

Ian was clean and in his scrubs in fifteen minutes flat. He paused in the hall, smiling as he noticed Mickey had picked up his discarded running clothes. By the time he reached Mickey again, who now sat at the dining room table with his coffee and phone, he was back in his trance again.

He may have been a little rough when he yanked Mickey's head to the side for a kiss, immediately grabbing a handful of his hair, but Mickey didn't complain. In fact he heard a whimper of delight from him.

“Thanks for picking up my clothes,” breathed Ian onto Mickey's lips.

“God this domestic shit really gets you hard, doesn't it?”

Ian grinned and moved Mickey's hand down between his legs to show him just how right he was.

“Ian,” groaned Mickey, “You're gonna be late for work, man.”

He pouted and released Mickey's hand. “Can't wait to move closer to work, so I have more time with you in the morning,” complained Ian while he moved to apply his shoes and coat.

“I'll make it worth the wait,” smirked Mickey, leaning forward on the table to grab his coffee again, “Just make sure you bring that energy home from work.”

“We've got that dinner tonight, though,” frowned Ian.

“After dinner,” corrected Mickey with a dismissive scowl, “We're adults, man, we can stay up, ya know.”

Ian laughed. “Guess so. You've got that meeting tomorrow, though, right?”

“It's a conference call. I can do that shit from home, right? You tryin' to make excuses to get out of it later?”

“No, it's just, this past week there's been a bunch of shit stealin' all of our time. Trying to not get my hopes up,” explained Ian pessimistically, “Feels like we haven't had sex in forever.”

“That's what happens to normal boring people, right?”

Ian's frown quickly turned into a grin at the reminder they worked into their conversation as often as possible; they had achieved what they'd dreamed of all that time ago in prison. He moved back towards Mickey who playfully rolled his eyes through his own large smile. He kissed him, then again, and again. He may have continued, but Mickey pushed him away with a laugh.

“Get your ass to work, man,” he said, “I'll see ya later.”

Ian sighed dramatically, but yielded and left. He hadn't even made it to his car before pulling out his cellphone and sending Mickey a text:  _Can't wait to bury my face in your ass later_

The reply pinged as he dropped into the driver's seat of his car.

Mickey:  _Pervert_

Ian:  _;) You like it_.

Mickey:  _Nah I love it_

Ian started his car, but before he could put it in drive he felt an uncontrollable urge to make a call he had thought of making all week. Well, even longer than that, truthfully. He smiled to himself as he searched for the number, deciding he could be a few minutes late for work for this.

  
  


  
  


*

  
  


“Home!” called out Ian as he shut the door.

Cuervo Jr. came running down the hall to greet him and Ian dropped to his knees to pet him happily. “Hey, cutie! Did you miss me? Huh? Did you miss me?”

Cuervo Jr. rolled onto his back, tail still wagging enthusiastically, and Ian rubbed his belly with both hands. But, with a quick glance towards the clock he realized he had a small window of time to get ready, so he stood and made his way to the back end of the apartment. Upon seeing the bathroom light on he abandoned his original journey to the bedroom to check in on Mickey.

“Hey, you,” smiled Ian as he pushed the door open completely, revealing Mickey standing in front of the mirror, styling his hair. “How was your day?”

“Not bad. Yours?”

“Pretty damn good,” answered Ian, gaining a suspicious look from Mickey.

Ian chuckled and moved to be behind him instead, “I'll tell you later when we get home.”

“The hell does that mean,” murmured Mickey as his gaze returned to the mirror, though it met up with Ian's again. He wrapped his arms around Mickey and smiled at him.

“You look good, Mick,” praised Ian softly, tilting his head to press a kiss to Mickey's neck while he maintained their eye contact. He was wearing Ian's favorite cologne and the leather jacket he knew Ian melted over.

Mickey smiled and slipped a hand over one of Ian's that was firmly planted on his ribs.

“This is as close to a fuckin' date that we've had in a while, right?”

Ian grinned, “Guess I better make myself look pretty too, huh?”

“Should just stay that way, then. You know how I like those scrubs on ya.”

“Oh, I know,” beamed Ian, knowing they were both likely reflecting on the same barrage of memories. Ian again contemplated them canceling the dinner to perhaps recreate some of them.

“You haven't seen my whole outfit yet, though.”

“Hm?” Ian stepped back to look down.

Mickey was wearing a familiar smug smile as he turned to face Ian, who now waited for the punch line. And when Mickey unzipped his leather jacket it hit him hard. He barked out a laugh at the sight of the Gay Jesus shirt and Mickey grinned.

“Take that off right fuckin' now,” laughed Ian.

“Why? Don't I look good?”

“I hate that you have that,” continued Ian with a shake of his head as his eyes landed on the drawing of himself.

“But, Gay Jesus is hot,” teased Mickey, “You know I'm a faithful disciple.”

“Shut up,” chuckled Ian, reaching out to yank Mickey's jacket off, “And take that off, right now.”

“You gonna make me, Gallagher?” challenged Mickey with a quirked brow as his jacket fell to the floor.

They stared at each other for a moment with equally playful eyes. Ian then pushed him back against the vanity and started to raise the shirt, but Mickey fought him, tugging the shirt down tight. Laughter tumbled from both of their mouths as they struggled, neither really giving it their all.

“C'mon, aren't you friends with these weirdos, again?” laughed Mickey, “They fuckin' calmed down. It's just a symbol of a totally  _normal_  activist group, now.”

“I don't like being a symbol,” argued Ian as he attempted to pin Mickey's wrists together behind his back. Mickey spun out of his grasp and ran out into the hall, barely avoiding Cuervo Jr. who looked excited and confused as he stood, slowly wagging his tail.

Ian slowly stalked forward with narrowed eyes and a smile, while Mickey waited in the hall grinning like a fool. But, just as Ian prepared to lunge at him a repetitive ringing echoed out from behind him in the bathroom. He glanced back at Mickey's phone on the vanity and frowned.

“Alright, ya win this time,” announced Mickey as he pulled the shirt off over his head, “But, I'm still wearing it to bed.”

Ian smiled, stopping Mickey before he reached his phone. He gave him a kiss and concluded, “You're a dick.”

Mickey laughed and shrugged while he reached for his phone. Ian watched him for a moment as he took the call, his eyes continuously raking over the exposed smooth skin of Mickey's back. He considered doing something naughty to Mickey, to see if he could maintain his phone conversation during, but when Mickey addressed the caller as Mandy his desire instantly deflated. Ian told him to pass along a greeting and made his way to their room to get changed, finally.

  
  


*

They took a lyft to the restaurant, knowing they would be having a few drinks with dinner. Truly, they couldn't be careful enough to avoid the law's attention. Life was too good now to risk it. And that wasn't unusual for Ian, but for Mickey it was like seeing someone from an entirely different life.

It was a bit busy, but thankfully a reservation had been made. Mickey immediately grabbed Ian's hand and weaved them through the crowd at the door to get to the hostess. The chatter in the place was too loud for Ian to hear their exchange, so he just focused on Mickey's hand, intertwining their fingers.

The hostess smiled and waved an arm, so they followed her back through the somewhat dimly lit place to a different dining room and on the other side of the room, sitting in a booth, they spied Aniyah and David. They were greeted with hugs from both of them before they slid into their booth, Ian going in first. A waitress appeared before Ian had even tucked their jackets into the corner of the booth. They both promptly order beers and the two across the table gave shining grins to Mickey.

Ian laughed at the sudden bashful look on Mickey's face and nudged him playfully.

“Yeah, alright,” Mickey mumbled, picking up on the atmosphere, “Let's not make a big fuckin' deal out of it, alright?”

“Mick!” laughed Ian, “That's why we're here!  _Celebrating_.”

“You're a free man,” chimed David.

“No more parole, no more fines, no more jumping through hoops,” added Aniyah excitedly, “You did it, Mickey!”

“Yeah, yeah,” dismissed Mickey while he looked around the room for an escape.

Ian and Aniyah shared a look of adoration while David teased, “Stop being a bitch about it. Lean into it, man, you survived. You've got a clean slate.”

Mickey gave him the finger, just in time for the waitress to return with two draft beers. Ian couldn't help but laugh as she cautiously looked between Mickey and David.

“Thank you so much,” said Ian, reaching for his beer.

She smiled and set Mickey's down on a coaster in front of him.

“So, I heard this morning that Alex is still driving you two insane,” spoke Ian, looking to Aniyah over his glass as he took a big gulp of his beer.

She sighed loudly and leaned over the table a bit as she returned, “I'm never working with him again. You know, last week he was trying to convince me that I should change the entire layout of the bathrooms three damn weeks before the deadline-for literally no good reason. I was like,  _I told you what I want, asshole. Just do it_.”

“He doesn't like that they're  _open_ ,” said Mickey with a roll of his eyes, “I told him, he just doesn't like that you're being accommodating to  _everyone_ , if you know what I mean.”

“Mhm,” returned Aniyah with an eyebrow raised, “I get that feeling, too.”

“I think that he doesn't like doing anything outside of his norm, period,” chimed David, “I mean, I saw his portfolio and every single project looked the same.”

“Why'd you hire him?” asked Ian, as he unfortunately was only in the loop as much as he could be.

Aniyah sighed and rubbed her thumb and two fingers together, “Money. He's cheap.”

“Mickey here got him to shave off two grand, too,” smiled David.

Mickey, again, didn't take the praise willingly. “The fucker was tryin' to charge us for two extra weeks of work. I told him,  _you have a deadline, if you can't meet it then you can fuck off_. He hasn't had a problem keeping up since, right?”

“Hiring Mickey is the gift that keeps giving, I'm tellin' ya,” said Aniyah.

“Will you all stop kissing my ass?” grumbled Mickey as he reached for his beer. “Jesus, I finished parole, I didn't save the planet.”

“He's cute when he's shy, isn't he?” teased Ian, wrapping an arm around Mickey.

The other two laughed while Mickey looked Ian up and down, eventually caving in and smiling at him when their eyes met.

“I honestly can't wait for our little hiring fair next week,” chimed Aniyah, with an amused look for Mickey, “We're gonna have so much fun interviewing people.”

Mickey chuckled, “For sure. So far, everyone I've interviewed for the current place have been nervous wrecks.”

“Oh, did you tell Ian we hired your friend, by the way?”

“I forgot,” grinned Mickey, looking to Ian with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Wait, who?”

“Gabe,” answered Mickey, “I about fainted when he walked into the office.”

Ian laughed thoroughly. “Was he super nervous?”

“That kid has zero awareness, you know that. He was like a damn puppy.”

David chuckled and said, “I can picture that perfectly. Did he shamelessly remind you of the ecigs he gave you?”

Mickey scoffed, “He wouldn't dare hold that over my head. And he only did that shit because of Ian, anyhow.”

“I think it's really cool how you guys are looking out for your fellow ex-convicts,” praised Ian, quickly redirecting the conversation.

“Somebody's gotta, right?” returned Mickey with a shrug. “So long as they actually wanna try.”

The waitress returned again to take their dinner orders, so they all went quiet to focus on figuring that out. Before long the orders were placed and three more alcoholic drinks were delivered to the table.

“So when's the big move?” asked David into his mixed drink.

“Two weeks,” beamed Ian, “We'll have to have a housewarming party.”

“Those townhouses are nice as fuck,” chimed Mickey, “I'm going to feel like I'm living in a bizarro world.”

Ian chuckled and agreed. “Should'a seen how much pain Mick was in giving the manager the deposit.”

They all laughed together at that, even Mickey while he rolled his eyes.

“It's only ten minutes from your job, right, Ian?” asked Aniyah.

“Mhm. Ten minute commute for me and fourteen for Mick—at the new place, anyways.”

“Good, I'll be sending him there all the time, anyhow,” winked Aniyah.

Mickey scowled playfully and she laughed.

“Don't act like you wouldn't be there, anyhow. You can't stand to not be involved.”

“Gotta make sure shit's done right.”

“And that's why you are basically running the business with me.”

Mickey smiled and shrugged.

“Have you two thought about moving?” asked Ian, “Finally get out of that crap neighborhood maybe?”

“Yeah, actually,” nodded Aniyah, “We want to move before Eli starts school next year. Maybe we'll get a place near you two.”

“Shit, we should all just move to the suburbs,” suggested David, leaning forward excitedly, “We should start a community for successful ex-cons.”

They all laughed at that and Mickey returned, “You're only successful because of your wife.”

“So?” scoffed David, “You're only successful because of her, too.”

“Yeah, but you are by association only. I am from the hard work.”

“Screw you, man, I'm successful at being a stay at home dad through  _hard work_.”

“Did you two bicker like an old married couple in prison, too?” teased Aniyah.

“Yeah, he drove me up the fuckin' wall every day,” chuckled Mickey.

David grinned, “I miss hearing you grumbling in the morning like an angry old man.”

Mickey opened his mouth to reply, with an expression that said he had a story locked and loaded, but the waitress appeared with their food at that moment.

It seemed most of them were hungrier than they thought as conversation became scarce while they dug in. Ian was almost concerned Mickey would choke, given how quickly he inhaled his steak.

When Ian was stuffed he leaned back and slipped a hand onto Mickey's back to lovingly stroke it. Mickey shot him a smile and returned to the last bit of food on his plate. Ian kept his eyes on him. His mind was so unbelievably stuck on how good life was with Mickey.

“Guess who needs to leave early?” spoke David unexpectedly.

Aniyah scoffed, “You're fucking kidding.”

“Nope,” returned David, his eyes on the cellphone in his hand as he typed a message.

“Everything alright?” asked Mickey.

“The babysitter we have is always cutting out early on us,” explained Aniyah while she leaned closer to her husband to view the text exchange.

It grew quiet so Ian returned his eyes to Mickey as he released his fork and sat back with his beer in hand. He groaned in contentment and Ian smiled. He wondered how after all these years his body still reacted to every little sound Mickey made.

“What's with the lovey eyes, Gallagher?” murmured Mickey turning his head to eye him.

“Nothing,” shrugged Ian innocently, his smile just the same. “Just like lookin' at ya.”

Mickey barely fought his grin down to a smile before looking back down to his empty plate. Ian still didn't look away. Aniyah and David were in the middle of a conversation about their babysitter, anyhow. Truthfully, he was hoping they  _would_  need to go home sooner than they planned, so Ian could get Mickey alone.

At the thought of this he spared the other two a glance, seeing they were still busy, and then walked his hand over to Mickey's thigh under the table.

He watched closely while Mickey took a drink from his beer and slipped his hand instead  _between_  his legs. Mickey froze and Ian grinned, watching as he slowly lowered his glass. He heard him swallow the liquid roughly even over the chatter of the restaurant. Ian moved his hand slowly, applying enough pressure to be felt through his jeans and watched Mickey glance around with wide eyes.

Ian felt him hardening beneath his hand and swore his heart shot up to his throat. Mickey's hand suddenly stopped his and Ian nervously looked to the other two. Aniyah was smiling apologetically while David had a cellphone to his ear. Ian tried not to look guilty as he smiled in return.

“Teenagers are too damn unreliable,” spoke Aniyah with annoyance, “We need to find an actual adult to babysit him.”

Mickey cleared his throat, “Hey, we understand if you guys gotta go.”

Ian's heart skipped, wondering if Mickey was just trying to leave, now.

“I'm sure you two are eager to go home anyways,” returned Aniyah with an understanding smile. Ian distracted himself with a gulp from his own beer, wondering if she somehow knew what he had been doing. “Mickey's been so busy all week. Y'all must be missing each other.”

“Lil' bit,” laughed Mickey, and Ian's cheeks flushed.

They managed to stay long enough for all four to finish their drinks and pay the bill. They said their goodbyes to the other couple outside of the restaurant and lit cigarettes as they watched them walk towards a parking lot two blocks away.

Ian couldn't help the excited nervous energy he felt as he turned to look at Mickey. This night could be life changing on multiple levels.

Mickey let forth a loud groan, patting his tummy as he leaned back against the brick building. He took a puff from his cigarette and looked to Ian with an amused smile.

“Can't stop staring at me tonight,” observed Mickey, “Feel like you know somethin' I don't.”

Ian shrugged, “Guess I'm just feeling excited about you being off of parole.”

Mickey nodded, understanding in his eyes as he took another hit. Ian turned to lean against the building next to him and had to choke down a pleased sound when Mickey reached to hold his free hand. He couldn't believe that Mickey god damn Milkovich so openly held his hand in public all the time. If that didn't say how far they had come, nothing ever would.

“Ready to be home, man,” said Mickey, “You should order a lyft, now.”

Ian didn't have to be told twice, he was dying to be home alone with Mickey. As he thumbed through the app, ordering a ride, they strolled down away from the restaurant a bit and soon put their cigarettes out.

He glanced at the app's estimated time for arrival and figured it was enough time to flirt some more. So he pocketed his phone and wrapped his arms around Mickey, pressing his chest into his shoulders. He gave him a kiss on the cheek and Mickey chuckled bashfully.

“You sure are grabby tonight, Gallagher,” teased Mickey.

“Mhm,” hummed Ian as he left a soft kiss on the side of Mickey's neck. He pulled back to his ear to murmur into it, “Don't know if I can wait anymore, Mick. Wanna fuck you right here.”

“Oh, yeah?” mumbled Mickey, “It's a little chilly out.”

“I'll warm you up fast,” promised Ian, smiling against his ear.

“Got somethin' to say, asshole?” barked Mickey suddenly, causing Ian to jump.

He pulled away to find an older couple standing on the curb near them, waiting for the crosswalk signal. The man rolled his eyes and leaned in to say something to the lady with him and Ian felt Mickey tense.

“Forget him, Mick,” soothed Ian, pressing another warm kiss to Mickey's jawline. “He doesn't even exist, right?”

He moved back to Mickey's ear on the other side of his head and secretly ran the tip of his tongue along the spine of it. Mickey's hand grasped Ian's and he mumbled, “Right.”

Ian smiled again and gently nipped at Mickey's ear. “Can we please get back to talking about what I want to do to you?”

“Oh, I can feel what you want to do to me,” joked Mickey, shifting legs so his ass inconspicuously pressed more against Ian's crotch. Ian let out a breathy laugh and fought every single impulse that screamed to grind into him.

In fact, he turned Mickey around to face him instead, because he didn't trust himself to resist for long. He watched Mickey glance towards the couple from a moment ago and he seemed pleased with their apparent absence. Ian didn't care either way as he looked on at the man before him.

Mickey's cheeks were lightly flushed and Ian let out an appreciative sigh. He leaned in until their foreheads were pressing together. “You're so damn beautiful, Mick.”

“How much did you actually drink in there?”

Ian smiled, “'s not that, Mick. I'm just really happy with you.”

Mickey's hand slipped onto his neck and Ian shut his eyes to soak up the feel of his thumb softly slipping back and forth along his jawline.

“Really happy with you, too, Ian. Never knew life could be like this.”

“Me either,” agreed Ian, “Never thought we'd end up here.”

“I kinda did.”

“Well, you always had more ambition and determination.”

Mickey snorted, “Guess you could call it that. Maybe desperation.”

“Mickey Milkovich is not a desperate man,” argued Ian with a smile, reopening his eyes to look into Mickey's. He watched his eyebrow raise and smiled even wider.

“Maybe a little,” whispered Mickey, “For you. You wrecked me, ya know. Burrowed right into my fuckin' skin. Not that I'm complai—”

Ian kissed Mickey, unable to resist for another moment as those words beckoned him in for a deep intimacy that words could never possibly achieve. They softly held onto each other as they tilted their heads into a deeper kiss, letting the surrounding, busy, world fade away for a moment.

It was the sound of a passerby whistling at them that had them breaking the seal. Mickey shifted uncomfortably, glancing around and Ian smiled softly, laying one last kiss on his forehead.

Soon they were in a stranger's car, holding hands in the backseat while Ian made small talk with the driver. It was a bit of a drive, but their hands didn't break away, even when they reached their destination and walked to their apartment. Not until they were inside where they both separated to show equal love to Cuervo Jr., who greeted them by excitedly running circles in the living room in front of them.

Ian let out a tired groan and said, “Let me just take him out for a walk and then we can get comfortable.”

“Nah, 's cool, I'll take Cuervo Jr. out,” returned Mickey, moving to get the leash.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, you just relax.”

Ian smiled and removed his coat and shoes, before he headed for the bathroom to empty his full bladder. On the trek back he found himself stopping in the hall to look over the framed pictures that covered the walls. Mickey always teased him for being a sap and staring at them, but truthfully Mickey had no idea just how often Ian did this.

There were cute pictures from their dates, pictures of them with Ian's family during the last round of holidays, pictures of their small domestic and also career achievements, and pictures of them with Cuervo Jr. during the first few months of having him. So much had happened in a year.

The front door squeaked a bit as Mickey and Cuervo Jr. re-entereed and Ian leaned back against the wall behind him to watch them settle in. Mickey shook off his leather jacket like it was on fire and kicked off his shoes, glancing up at what Ian was doing. Cuervo Jr. stole his attention back, though.

“You hungry, buddy?”

Cuervo Jr. practically danced in place, waiting for Mickey to lead the way to the kitchen. Ian waited for Mickey's presence, listening as he poured kibble into the stainless steel bowl, and taking a deep breath when he did appear around the corner at the end of the hall. Mickey had a gentle, knowing smile on his face as he moved in close to him. Ian's heart fluttered like it was the first time as Mickey caged him in to the wall.

“You getting all soft looking at these pictures, again?” questioned Mickey in a low voice.

“Maybe,” murmured Ian.

Mickey's smile grew as he released a breath against Ian's face. Ian fully expected Mickey to tease him, or change the subject, but instead he spoke, “It's been a really good year, huh?”

“It's only going to get better,” returned Ian, “We're both free, now. We can go anywhere and do anything we want.”

“I'll tell ya what I want right now,” returned Mickey with hooded eyes that lowered to Ian's lips. They tingled in anticipation, he could hardly fight the burst of excitement that zipped through his body as he waited.

“Another fuckin' beer,” grinned Mickey, pulling away with a look that said he knew exactly what he just did. Ian narrowed his eyes as Mickey headed back to the kitchen, still watching him, waiting for a reaction. Ian cracked when he disappeared around the corner, laughing, and said, “Yeah, alright, asshole. Go ahead and make me wait a little longer.”

“Hey, I found out how good you are at waiting, didn't I?” called Mickey from the kitchen.

Ian shook his head and moved to join him, contemplating on how he would get him back. Mickey was leaning against the counter, bottle tipped against his mouth with his eyes closed, so Ian settled against the counter across from him, crossing his arms.

“Had to have another one,” said Mickey as he lowered the bottle, “Just because  _I can_.”

“Can't believe you made it a whole year without getting in any trouble.”

“Me either. First year of my life like that, man,” chuckled Mickey.

“No shit. But, not doing fucked up shit is starting to feel normal, right?”

“Yeah, which is weird,” admitted Mickey, pausing to take another gulp of the amber liquid. “Makes me stop and wonder who I am every now and then.”

“You're happy, though, right?”

Mickey scoffed, “You kiddin'? Fuck yeah I am. No question.”

Ian sent him a sun-bright smile which had Mickey smiling earnestly in return, dropping his gaze to the floor a bit.

“I've got you, Cuervo Jr., a nice place, a great job, and I even have normal fuckin' friends. Any part of me that feels like a fuckin' fraud or whatever is dying off more every day.”

“I'm glad, because you deserve it all, Mick,” returned Ian, surprised at the flash of emotion that crossed Mickey's expression. “You've worked hard for it all. Even me. Especially, me, really.”

One corner of Mickey's mouth twitched up. “Ya know, even if we didn't have all this comfort and shit, it'd still be worth it, right? Like, say we were livin' on the southside still, working shitty jobs, and barely makin' ends meet, it'd still be good.”

“Yeah, you're right. But, this is better.”

Mickey laughed and agreed with an exaggerated nod of his head. He proceeded to take another large gulp from his beer and sucked his bottom lip in his mouth while his eyes slipped down and back up Ian. He pushed away from the counter, causing Ian to grip the one behind him with both hands.

“Alright, Gallagher,” started Mickey with a tilt of his head, “I'm gonna have a smoke and then you're gonna use all that fuckin' pent up sexual frustration on me.”

Ian nodded eagerly and followed Mickey as he headed for the laundry room. He flipped on the overhead vent and made his way to the small window at the end of the room. Mickey set his beer on the dryer and lit a cigarette, all the while Ian wondered if now was the time to tell Mickey about his morning phone call.

“It won't be so bad, anymore,” said Mickey before blowing a long, even plume of smoke out the window. Ian moved closer with a quizzical look. “I mean, with work. We got the worst of it outta the way, and in two weeks I'll have a lot more free time, again.”

“Yeah, and once we're settled in our new place we'll have even more time. Maybe we should start planning for a vacation.”

“Vacation?” repeated Mickey. “How fuckin' normal would that be?”

Ian laughed, “See? We gotta do it, to keep up with our goal.”

“Yeah,” chuckled Mickey.

Ian plucked the cigarette from Mickey's fingers and took a hit while he positioned himself directly in front of the shorter man. Mickey took the cigarette back while his other hand naturally wrapped around Ian's lower back. He again eyed Ian with a hooded gaze, licking his lips as a hit of smoke slipped free from his mouth and nose.

“Thinkin' I should reschedule that morning call for the afternoon.”

“Can you do that?”

“I'm the one with the stats they need,” shrugged Mickey, “And it's bullshit enough that we're doing it on a Saturday morning. We were supposed to have it on Wednesday, but two of the assholes were too busy with their own businesses.”

“Guess that's the power of being an investor.”

Mickey scowled while he took another hit. “I think they can get the fuck over themselves. We're giving them a prime opportunity, ya know. Aniyah's already talking about another branch near the Northside. We could be talking about a national chain in ten years.”

Ian raised impressed brows and slid both of his hands onto Mickey's chest, in a trance again by the invisible force that was his attraction to Mickey. He leaned close until their lips were nearly touching and Mickey abruptly snorted, causing him to pull right back.

“So, apparently, domestic shit  _and_  business talk get ya goin', huh?”

Ian grinned and shrugged. “I like seeing all the different sides to you, Mick.”

Mickey took one last hit from his cigarette and smashed it into the ashtray on the window seal, suggesting, “How about we head to the bedroom and you can show me just how much.”

Ian didn't have to be told twice. He had plans. The last four days had made him hungry with need for Mickey's body, but today had been especially filled with the desire to worship him. He was going to kiss every single inch of him. He was going to lick, nibble, and suck every sensitive spot until Mickey begged for release.

 _For the rest of our lives_ , Ian thought endlessly. The possibility was glowing bright before him. But first, he needed Mickey to feel what had been blossoming inside him all day. He needed him to feel how special he was to Ian. And this would take a very long time to convey.

Ian started in the middle of the floor, dropping to his knees. He lifted Mickey's shirt and kissed his tummy, waltzing his lips to Mickey's right hip where he so slowly dragged his teeth down as far as his pants would allow. He pressed his hand to Mickey's warm skin and moved it up, lifting his shirt more. His eyes landed on one of the small but prominent scars from his attack in prison. He kissed those every chance he got.

As Ian dragged his bottom lip to the other side of Mickey, riding the top of his jeans the whole way, Mickey let out a breathy moan and lifted away his shirt. Ian raised his eyes to him and found Mickey's, already heavy with lust, peering back at him.

Ian smiled at Mickey as he extended his tongue to drag up his abdomen, unbuttoning his pants in the process. Mickey let out a sharp swear when Ian's tongue met his ribs.

But, a sudden weight on the back of Ian's legs had both of them pausing. He glanced back at Cuervo Jr., who was curiously looking up at him, attempting to sit on one of his calves.

“Cockblock,” murmured Ian while he stood.

Cuervo Jr. wagged his tail and headed for the bed, causing both of them to call out protests.

“Na uh—”

“Nope, not bedtime—”

Mickey moved to the door, to shoo the dog out and close it, while Ian sat on the bed.

“Out,” commanded Mickey, pointing towards the doorway.

Cuervo Jr. just backed up a couple steps, wagging his tail in a hopeful way and whining.

Mickey sighed. “C'mon, man. Your dads got stuff to do to each other that don't involve you. Out.”

Ian couldn't stop himself from laughing when he watched the dog slowly leave the room with his ears back and tail down. Mickey shut the door with a grumbling, “Christ sake. Try'na make me feel like an asshole.”

“Get over here, Mick, I'll make you feel better.”

Mickey smiled brightly and soon climbed onto his lap, kissing Ian with so much heat that he gripped the bedspread below him. His shirt was pulled away and immediately they both pressed closer, indulging in the feel of warm skin on warm skin. Fuck, he would never tire of touching Mickey's silky skin.

Ian pulled his mouth away enough to make the breathy suggestion of giving Mickey a massage, and heard zero complaints as Mickey readily dropped onto his stomach. It was so comical that Ian laughed loudly.

“Don't make fun of me, my shoulders have been killing me all week.”

“Poor baby,” murmured Ian as he worked on tugging Mickey's pants off.

“When you said massage, you were talking about my back, right?” chuckled Mickey.

“I was talking about everything,” corrected Ian as he pulled Mickey's boxers away. “That a problem?”

Mickey shook his head and seemed to settle into a comfortable position, but Ian didn't miss the smile he spied on his face.

He took his time with roaming his hands all over Mickey. He kneaded deeply into his shoulders and rubbed soothingly into his lower back. He loved the way Mickey twitched as he rubbed his thighs and how he squirmed a bit as he lifted his feet to rub them. An entire half hour passed of slow exploration that seemed to relax Ian almost as much as Mickey.

As Ian soon replaced his hands with his lips, waltzing them down Mickey's back lower and lower, he whispered against his skin between kisses, “Wanna do this... every single day... for the rest of our lives...Never gets old...Love you so much...”

Mickey sucked in a sharp breath as Ian reached his ass, grinding needily into the bed below him while Ian extended his tongue as deeply as he could reach. Ian looked up to the side of Mickey's face as he kneaded his ass with both hands, letting his thumbs slip between to tease him. He was hugging his pillow tightly, now, so Ian moved back down to replace his thumbs with his tongue, once again.

“Does that sound good to you?” asked Ian quietly, against him, “You want me to do this to you for the rest of our lives?”

“Mhm,” groaned Mickey deeply while he squirmed into the bed again.

Ian felt his mind wander and knew he couldn't wait another moment. He flipped Mickey over, uncontrollably eyeing his straining arousal. He smirked and leaned forward to run his tongue up it, watching with satisfaction as Mickey bit his lip and reached down to grab a handful of Ian's hair.

“You want me, Mick?” murmured Ian, rising up to hover over him, “Forever?”

Mickey nodded eagerly, perhaps too aroused to pick up the sincerity in Ian's voice. He reached for the lube waiting for them on the nightstand, but Ian stopped him.

“Wait, wait,” he said hurriedly.

“You get me ready or I'm getting me ready  _for you_ , Gallagher,” said Mickey in some sort of hysterical threat. “Can't wait any longer.”

Ian let out a soft laugh and pulled back to sit on his knees beside Mickey. “I promise I'll give you what you want, but just, can we stop for a second?”

“'s wrong?”

“I wanna talk to you about something real quick.”

Mickey groaned loudly and dropped his head back on the pillow, causing it to puff up around his head. “We can talk after,” he whined, “I'm dyin' over here.”

“Called the courthouse today,” blurted Ian.

Mickey stilled for a moment. “What for?” he asked quietly.

“Um...Well, I, uh,” stumbled Ian, dropping his gaze away nervously. This was not how he saw it going in his head.

“Spit it out, Gallagher,” grumbled Mickey, “You know the court system isn't really my idea of dirty talk. I'm bout to be as limp as a cooked noodle.”

“I was just finding out about the price for a marriage certificate and ceremony.”

It was so quiet as Ian stared hard at the comforter and Mickey said nothing. He was too nervous to look at him, an unreasonable fear overwhelmed him that Mickey wouldn't want to go that far, or maybe he wouldn't want to get married at the courthouse, or maybe at all. Maybe Mickey was content to stay together the way they were.

“You wanna marry me?” breathed Mickey quietly.

Ian finally looked at him, finding Mickey's eyes wide and his gaze piercing. Ian nodded cautiously.

“Really?”

“More than anything, Mick,” he said hoarsely, “Would you maybe wanna?”

Suddenly Mickey was climbing back into his lap, turning his insides to fireworks with a devouring kiss. Ian held onto him to steady himself and stay grounded in the moment. Mickey exhaled loudly through his nose as he so very slowly pulled his lips away.

“Fuck yes,” gasped Mickey, his eyes bright and wet with happiness.

“You'll marry me?” questioned Ian, entirely aware of how his voice trembled with hope.

“Yes, fuckin' yes,” repeated Mickey with a hysterical laugh that followed, “I'll marry you anytime, anywhere, Gallagher.”

Ian grinned and pulled Mickey back in for another kiss that was full of teeth and small laughs, as they both couldn't stop smiling.

He couldn't believe that this was their life now. Everything had changed for the best. It may have taken a long time, and involved a lot of heartbreak and pain and frustrations, but Ian would do it all over again, just to get to this moment in time.

Finally, he knew for certain that they would be together forever.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! I hope that was a satisfactory ending. I could honestly write them being domestic endlessly, so I made myself stick to just one day in their lives.


End file.
